Little Boxes
by jelenamichel
Summary: The team investigates when the husband of Viv Blackadder, a former NCIS agent who worked with Gibbs and Tony, dies. As the case progresses, Tony and Ziva try to decide where to take their relationship, and whether they can live with the consequences of making the wrong decision. Out of canon season 10 casefic with lashings of T/Z.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I ask for your patience on this one. I haven't finished it (not close), so updates will be sporadic. And I state now that I may not ever manage to finish it. You'll get at least ten chapters, but I can't promise anything beyond that. I don't watch the show anymore and so I don't get that weekly dose of excitement to keep me addicted. I just hope I can get this whole story out before the love for it leaves me completely.  
>For those of you who don't rememberwere still in daycare when the show began, Viv Blackadder was the token woman on the team back in the two pilot **_**J.A.G.**_** episodes. She didn't last any longer than that.  
>Also, just to confuse matters, I've used a minor character from my story <strong>_**Bound**_**, but this story isn't a sequel to that one, or even in the same universe.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The snow had come early to D.C.<p>

A week after her birthday in November, Ziva sat by the window in a cozy café and watched the delicate snow flurries falling from the clouds that had gathered the previous evening. Even after eight years in D.C. she was still enchanted by the first few flakes of the season. She found it easy to become mesmerized by the sight of the flakes rushing towards her, and more than once she had lost her footing after getting caught up in the beauty. It was a simple thing, really. She knew it, and she was even somewhat embarrassed by the effect the simplicity of nature had on her. But she couldn't help it. McGee said he always found the snow bleak, but Ziva found it magical. Tony said he always found it irritating, but Ziva found it exciting. She didn't have a clue how Gibbs felt about it, but she suspected he did not take kindly to it.

The first flakes had started falling at about eleven o'clock the night before. She had been leaving Tony's apartment after exactly one drink and one viewing of _Charade_ when she had felt a cold spot hit her cheek. She had looked to the heavens, expecting to see rain coming down. But instead the streetlights had lit up a few lonely flakes of ice swirling down from the darkness above. She had smiled as she'd indulged in the sight for a few moments, and then she'd fished her cell phone out of her pocket and sent a text message to Tony, alerting him to the extraordinary development. Seconds later she'd seen him open his living room blinds and peek out through the slats, and she she'd smiled up at him enticingly, as if he might be convinced to come out and play. She'd received a text message instead—_Come back in, you're terrible at driving in the snow_—which she had disregarded with a hand gesture instead of another message. Yes, it was snowing, but it wasn't _snowing_. The ice flakes were melting as soon as they kissed the ground, and Ziva had not considered it a driving hazard. Spending the night at Tony's? _That_ was a hazard. She'd jumped into her car and sped home, and then spent the next hour standing at her bedroom window and gazing at the show.

There was only a very light dusting on the ground outside the café now, but it was enough to keep her in a good mood. The same could not be said, however, for her dining companion. Cassie Martin was a fellow agent with whom Ziva had become friends when she started dating McGee five months ago. They had bonded over their shared fondness for McGee, mojitos and martial arts, and now met for lunch and drinks almost as regularly as Cassie and McGee did. Cassie was slightly taller than Ziva with porcelain skin and dark red hair. Tony liked to joke—privately to Ziva, when Cassie was far enough away to not punch him in the throat—that McAssie (the couple's nickname was private too) would have kids with skin so translucent you'd be able to watch their breakfasts digesting. It was still early in their relationship, but Ziva had a gut feeling that there would come a day when Tony would be proven wrong. The kids would not be translucent, but she thought the odds were good that they would at least exist. McGee was smitten, Cassie was smitten, apartment keys had been exchanged and parents had been met. More importantly, the two of them just sort of…fit.

At least, they usually did. On this afternoon, over vegetable soup and tea, Cassie was methodically working through some kind of relationship-related meltdown that Ziva had not seen coming.

"Have you noticed Tim being weird?"

Ziva paused with her soupspoon halfway to her mouth, and shot Cassie a halfway amused frown. "I frequently notice him being weird," she replied. "But not more so now than is usual."

Cassie let the gentle dig at her boyfriend go. "No, I mean has he seemed kind of cagey?"

Ziva didn't even have to think about it. Tim McGee was one of those people whose moods were generally so even that even the slightest deviance made it seem like there was a flashing neon sign over his head. "No."

"Has Tony said anything?" Cassie pushed.

"About McGee being weird and cagey? No."

Cassie sighed and slumped back in her seat, but didn't give in to defeat. "He is being weird and cagey," she stated.

Ziva put down her spoon and rested her elbows on the table. "In what way?"

Cassie shrugged. "I don't know. He's just nervous and he doesn't want to look me in the eye. He doesn't even really talk that much."

Ziva frowned. "That does not sound like him."

"Exactly," Cassie said, and then looked at Ziva sadly. "I think he's going to break up with me."

She didn't know what was going on with her teammate, but Ziva didn't believe for a second that McGee was thinking about ending the relationship. He'd been so annoyingly happy for the last five months that he'd driven Ziva, Tony and even Abby to drink on more than one occasion. For the first time since Ziva had met him, he really seemed to be comfortable and confident in his own skin, and she could think of no reason for him to give it all up now.

"No, Cassie," she said with a shake of her head. "He is crazy about you."

"Maybe he's not anymore," Cassie argued. "Maybe he's met someone else."

Ziva leaned over the table and looked her in the eye. "Timothy McGee is not cheating on you," she said firmly. "He is not that kind of man. Not now, not ever."

Cassie's shoulders drooped as she conceded the point. "I know. But maybe Abby finally wore him down."

"They are _definitely_ not dating," Ziva stated, wagging her finger for emphasis.

"I know," Cassie said. "But she hates my guts."

"Well…" Ziva started to argue, but when Cassie raised a challenging eyebrow she found she couldn't really deny it. Abby had been nothing but painfully polite and forcibly civil to Cassie from the moment she found out she was dating McGee, and it made everyone uncomfortable. Ziva wasn't 100 per cent clear on what Abby's issue was. She'd been adamant that she didn't see a future for herself and McGee, and she hadn't really had a problem with other women he'd dated over the years. Ziva suspected she'd unloaded on Ducky or perhaps Jimmy Palmer (she wouldn't dare be so obvious with Gibbs, and Tony would have told Ziva), but whenever she tried to ask her about it, Abby insisted there was no issue that needed discussion. Ziva didn't want to be stuck in the middle, so she had given up.

"Perhaps you are not her favorite person in the world," she said diplomatically.

Cassie rolled her eyes at the understatement. "Maybe she's convinced him that I'm not good enough for him."

Ziva responded to her self-pitying talk with an annoyed glare. Being worried about something was one thing, but turning it into unnecessary drama was quite another. Ziva had no patience for it, and usually neither did Cassie.

"Would you stop it?" she said. "You know you are good enough. And Abby may not like you, but she would not say mean things about you to McGee. And even if she did? McGee would not listen to it." She pointed across the table accusingly. "You keep forgetting that he is one of the good ones."

"He _is_ one of the good ones," Cassie agreed. "I just want to know what his problem is."

"Have you asked him?"

Cassie picked up her spoon and swirled it through her soup as she mumbled, "Yes, and he denies there's anything wrong."

Ziva fought the urge to kick her under the table. "Have you considered that he is telling the truth?" she asked obviously.

"I would if he wasn't acting so different to the way he usually does," Cassie returned.

Ziva sighed heavily and clasped her hands in front of her as she measured her words. "Cassie…I say this with love."

"That usually means whatever comes next is _not_ said with love," Cassie shot in.

Ziva ignored her. "You do have a habit of worrying about things you do not need to worry about."

The corner of Cassie's mouth twitched in the barest of self-aware smiles. "Are you calling me a drama queen?"

"Right now?" Ziva nodded. "Yes. But not usually."

Cassie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and Ziva knew that she was searching for the level head that she usually had. She shifted in her seat and leaned forward over the table, and looked at Ziva with honesty. "I just really, really like him," she said softly. "Love even, if I had a gun to my head. It's the best relationship I've had and I'm happy in it, and I'm just don't want it to end. I want it to just…go longer."

Ziva smiled. "How long?"

Cassie twisted her lips. "Significantly," she finally admitted.

_To the end_, Ziva thought. She didn't make Cassie say it. She understood how hard it was to say such things aloud, particularly if you meant them. Admitting to deep feelings for another person when you had spent your life striving to be independent, impenetrable and focused on your job—particularly _this_ job—made you incredibly vulnerable. And she spoke from experience. Although she and Tony hadn't discussed their feelings in detailed, plain English, they had given each other a brief overview and made loose agreements about what they meant to each other. That alone had terrified her. And it was why she envied Cassie and McGee's nerve. Ziva felt more prepared to disarm a bomb that just look at Tony and explicitly tell him what she wanted. If she was even clear on what that was. Sometimes, she found herself confused.

She cut the thought off abruptly and returned her focus to Cassie. "I would not bet against that happening," she told her. "Sometimes men are just weird and cagey."

"I guess," Cassie allowed, and the shook her head and swiped her hands in front of her, as if clearing the table. "Okay. I'm letting it go," she declared.

"Good."

"Until he breaks up with me," she continued. "And then I'm coming for your ass because you doubted me."

Ziva chuckled and returned to her soup. "All right."

Cassie sipped her tea as she gazed out the window and shook her head. "Can't believe it's snowing already."

"It is wonderful," Ziva insisted. "It may snow for Thanksgiving."

"What a treat," Cassie said flatly.

"You are still coming to dinner with us, yes?" Ziva checked. The team had plans to hold their regular Thanksgiving get-together at Ducky's house. He was the only one with a table large enough to accommodate their growing group.

"That's the plan."

"It has not snowed on Thanksgiving for a while," Ziva said, and looked wistfully out the window. "It will be nice."

"You're a nut job," Cassie told her, but her tone lacked malice and so Ziva ignored her.

"It was beautiful last night when I came out to go home," Ziva told her.

Cassie gave her a puzzled look. "Did you stay back late last night? Tim was home by 1900."

Ziva shook her head. "No, when I left Tony's."

A grin, almost predatory in nature, slowly spread across Cassie's face at the information. Ziva could have smacked herself for giving it up. She put on her Mossad-trained poker face and stared Cassie down as her friend gave chase.

"Oh. You were at Tony's," she said conversationally.

"Yes." Just the facts, nothing else.

"What did you guys get up to?"

"We watched a movie."

Cassie nodded slowly as her smile grew. She looked at Ziva knowingly, and although they both knew what was going on, Ziva held up her veil of innocence. She wasn't in the mood to deconstruct the feelings she and her partner had for each other, and since she'd never admitted anything to Cassie anyway she saw no reason to start talking about it now.

"Did he get you a birthday present yet?" Cassie asked.

Ziva shook her head, and made a face that made it seem like it was no big deal. "No. Why would he?"

"Because it was your birthday," Cassie stated. "And he's your partner."

"That does not mean he is obligated to get me a present," Ziva told her. And she honestly believed it. Their team would go to the ends of the earth for each other, but they'd never really been good at observing anniversaries or celebrating. It just wasn't their thing. Abby excepted, of course.

"Didn't you get him a present for his birthday?" Cassie asked. "I'm pretty sure you did. It was right after me and Tim started dating and he said something about you guys going off to do something."

Ziva tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yes. I took him to a motorbike racing track."

Cassie's eyes widened and her smile turned from smug to excited. "Really? Can you and me do that? I want to do that!"

Ziva chuckled at Cassie's enthusiasm. That was another thing they had in common. A love for machines that went extremely fast. "Yes, we should do that."

Cassie reached over to briefly grab her hand for a hard squeeze before letting go. "It can be our seasonal presents to each other."

"Okay."

Cassie clapped her hands together twice, and then dropped the excitement and leaned over the table again. "Great, but back to Tony."

"Cassie," Ziva groaned warningly.

"Why didn't get you a present?" she asked again. "Seriously, that's really bad form."

"No one else got me a present," Ziva told her defensively. "Except you. And Tim." She paused and thought a little harder. "And Abby and Ducky and Jimmy. But Gibbs didn't."

Cassie rolled her eyes like that was the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, no. Because your apartment's not big enough for a boat."

Ziva rubbed her thumbnail against the handle of her teacup. "I could probably fit a canoe in."

Cassie chuckled but didn't let go of her line of questioning. "So aside from Gibbs, who really doesn't count, Tony's the only one who didn't get you a present."

"It does not matter," she told Cassie firmly. "A present was not expected, and so it is not missed."

Cassie rested her chin on her hand and looked at her thoughtfully. "Did he at least _say_ happy birthday?"

"Yes."

"Did he give you a birthday kiss?" she shot in quickly.

Ziva dropped her head to the side and looked at her wearily. She admired the woman's persistence, but wished she would turn it to other matters. "No, Cassie."

Cassie scrunched up her nose, suggesting that wasn't the answer she was after. But Ziva was saved from further grilling when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and then almost rolled her eyes. She'd been saved from questioning about Tony by…Tony.

"David," she answered.

"Hey, are you nearby?" he asked. Ziva could tell from his voice that he was walking pretty fast, and she was sure she knew what that meant.

"Yes, I am just at the café," she told him, and pushed back her half eaten soup in preparation to leave. "New case?"

"Yeah. I'm coming with the truck. Pick you up in three minutes."

"Could you bring my—?"

"Already got it," he cut in, and then hung up.

Ziva slipped her phone back in her pocket and gave Cassie a vaguely apologetic look that she knew wasn't necessary. "Duty calls."

"Where are you headed?" Cassie asked as they both stood and started gathering their things.

"He did not say."

"Case?"

"A murder, I assume," Ziva replied. "Murder is our specialty."

They left the café and walked a few feet down the street out of the way of pedestrian traffic to wait for Tony. Ziva did a mental inventory of her gear. She had her gun and badge on her, she was positive that her cap was in her backpack that Tony would bring, and she could grab a jacket from the truck. She looked down at her boots. They weren't ideal but she could certainly make do. Unless Tony had also thought to grab her combat boots from behind her desk.

"So, I guess this begins another week where I won't see you or Tim," Cassie said.

Ziva shot her a smirk. "You are more upset about not seeing Tim, yes?" she checked.

Cassie shrugged and played up her sulkiness. "I guess."

"You are not worried that _I_ am going to break up with you, are you?" Ziva checked, mostly making fun of her.

Cassie crossed her arms against the cold. "Actually, yes," she said. "If me and Tim break up then you're probably going to break up with me too."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Oh, for…" she started with a groan. "We will never find out," she told Cassie. "I am sure you will still be together long after he and I finish working together. And probably long after I am dead."

Cassie's eyes widened a little at the statement and she shook her head in disbelief. "I swear to God, Ziva. The silver lining you put around your clouds also contains traces of lead and mercury and, like, asbestos and Agent Orange…"

"I am not saying it will happen next week!" Ziva argued as she spied the MCRT truck turn the corner and come towards them. Tony flashed the lights at her and she stepped closer to the curb. "I am trying to tell you to stop worrying about it."

"Okay, I've stopped!"

Tony pulled up beside them and Ziva pulled open the passenger door.

"Let's go!" he called to her. "Less yabba yabba, more go go."

As Ziva hauled herself into the truck, Cassie planted her hand against the open door and leaned around to look at him.

"Hey, can you put her in a more positive mood, please?" she asked. "She's talking about dying again."

"I am not talking about dying!" Ziva argued.

Tony gave Cassie a three-fingered salute. "Roger that. I'm on it. Of course we are headed to a horrible murder scene so…I might have to work a little harder than normal."

"I am already in a positive mood," Ziva continued to argue.

"By the way," Cassie called out. "Why didn't you get Ziva a birthday present?"

"What?" Tony asked, just as Ziva gritted her teeth and aimed a death glare at Cassie.

"_Now_ my mood is less positive," she warned her friend, and then slammed the door on Cassie's grinning face. "Let's go," she told Tony.

Tony put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the street. "Birthday present?" he repeated. "Is that what she said?"

"Forget about it," she told him. "She is trying to create trouble where trouble is not welcome."

"But I did get you a present," Tony told her as he steered the truck towards the Navy Yard gates. "It just hasn't arrived yet."

Ziva shook her head and slumped back in her seat. The next time she saw Cassie she was going to wring her tiny little translucent neck. "Tony, it is not necessary."

"You're only saying that because you haven't gotten it yet," he told her, and then eyed her cautiously. "That's not why you're in a bad mood, is it?"

"I am not in a bad mood!" she cried. Off Tony's look of disbelief, she revised the statement. "I am in a bad mood with _Cassie_, not with you over anything to do with a birthday."

"Okay."

"Okay," she sighed.

He waited a beat. "Because I really did get you one."

She looked over at him, but held back her irritation with the conversation. She gave him a brief, gracious smile. "Thank you. I look forward to it."

"Okay."

They turned right out of the gates of the Navy Yard and Ziva turned the heat up just a little before settling back into her seat.

"What do we know about the case?"

"Navy lieutenant was found dead in his home by his wife," Tony told her. "She probably killed him."

Ziva looked over at him in time to see him smile. _The wife/girlfriend/mistress did it_ was his favorite theory for everything. "How many times have you been wrong about that?" she asked.

Tony pretended to do a tally in his head. "As of this morning? Only about 87 times."

She smiled and returned her gaze out the window. "Where are we going?"

"Virginia Beach," he replied. "Gibbs and McGee are probably there already."

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No. But Gibbs is driving. They're closer than us."

"I could drive—"

"No."

Ziva sighed. If they were partners for the next 40 years, he would still never stop being a baby about her driving. She changed the subject.

"Have you noticed McGee being weird and cagey lately?"

Tony gave her a confused frown. "What does that mean?"

"I am not sure," she admitted.

"Ah. Is there trouble in McAssie Town?"

"Tony, you must stop calling them that," she warned. "One day you will make a mistake and say it to them, and then Cassie will break your fingers."

"You two are just peas in a pod, huh?"

"No. If I found out you had a derogatory nickname for me I would break your legs."

"Seems like overkill," Tony muttered. "Good thing I don't have any derogatory nicknames for you then, sweetcheeks."

Ziva grunted.

"So, as much as I don't like gossiping about my friends," Tony started, and then pointedly ignored Ziva's snort of dispute, "what's Cassie's problem?"

Ziva weighed up the pros and cons of repeating Cassie's concerns but, like she almost always did, she told Tony anyway. "You cannot tell McGee," she warned.

Tony nodded easily, because they had already done this a hundred times since the beginning of McGee and Cassie's relationship.

"She feels that he is nervous about something and has stopped talking to her about things," Ziva said. "She thinks he is going to break up with her. Which I told her was ridiculous, but she is not convinced."

There was a pause before Tony offered, "Hunh."

Ziva's head whipped around to look at him. Her partner was wearing a pained expression that confirmed he knew the other side to the story. She shifted in her seat to angle herself towards him and zeroed in on him.

"What do you know?" she asked.

Tony shook his head. "Nothing."

"Tony."

He glanced at her and the pointed a warning finger. "You can't tell Cassie."

Ziva nodded impatiently and gestured for him to hurry up with the information.

"He's going to ask her to move in with him."

Ziva's mouth fell open and she stared at Tony as she processed the information. It was good news. _Very_ good news. And she was extremely happy to hear about the development in their relationship. She loved McGee like a brother, she had grown very close to Cassie, and she had no reservations about their relationship. So why didn't she feel like smiling?

"That is wonderful," she said, and then turned her head to look out the window.

"You don't think she's going to say no, do you?" Tony asked, trying to work out her reaction.

Ziva looked back at him again and shook her head. "No, of course not. She will be very excited."

"Are you sure?" Tony pressed. "Because I think I could talk him out of it."

"No, don't do that," Ziva said. "I am sure she will say yes."

Tony eyed her with suspicion. "Okay. But if she says no and McGee ends up sulking for months and listening to Phil Collins, I'm going to blame you."

"Mhmm," she grunted distractedly, giving the threat about as much weight as it deserved. She didn't know why she felt so underwhelmed by the news. Yes, she was happy and she couldn't wait for McGee to ask Cassie, but there was something in her chest that was holding her back. A weight. Was it jealousy? McGee and Cassie had only met a few months ago and they were already taking steps to make things official and permanent. Ziva had been coming to realize for a while now that those were things she wanted in her own life. But while she knew who she wanted them with, she honestly didn't believe it would happen. Not now, and maybe not for a long time, if ever. Because surely if it _was_ going to happen, it would have by now.

It wasn't just a dismissive, overly dramatic thought. The truth was, she and Tony had plenty of chances over the years. Particularly over the last one. Certain things had happened between them in that time. Things that involved physical and emotional intimacy. But they'd only ever happened when the two of them were stuck together in confined spaces or far away from D.C. and out of the ever-watchful gaze of Gibbs, McGee and Abby. They'd even slept together before—twice—but never at home. If they did it at home, that would mean they were in a relationship. And the last time they discussed it—it was during a post-coitus dinner in San Diego five months ago after Harper Dearing had nearly killed them all—neither was ready for that. Or, rather, neither was ready to deal with the repercussions of taking it public. Ziva thought she was ready to take a stab at the relationship, but she was not ready for the scrutiny of co-workers and possible burning at the stake by Gibbs. A year into the affair, things hadn't changed a bit. And if they hadn't by now, Ziva had to accept that they probably never would. But that didn't mean she was quite ready to let go of the idea yet.

She swallowed hard to push down the sharp and sudden feeling of sadness in her chest. If she and Tony were more like Cassie and McGee, then maybe they would have brought things out of the hotel room by now. If they didn't work together on the same team then they would be able to bring things out into the open and give themselves a proper chance. God only knew if they'd actually make it in the long run, but surely they would have a better chance at success if they didn't have to worry about hiding things.

"Hey."

Ziva blinked and turned her head at Tony's soft call.

"You've gone all introspective and girly." He made a face like that terrified him, but there was enough warmth in his eyes to assure her that he was actually making sure she was okay and not suddenly upset about something. She was, but she didn't see any reason to start a discussion about it on their way to a crime scene. If they were to have the conversation at all, it would be in a hotel room 500 miles from D.C.

She gave him the vaguely annoyed eye roll she thought he was after. "Well, obviously I am thinking about McGee and Cassie's translucent children and whether I will be their favorite aunt."

Tony's eyes lingered on her for a moment, just long enough to tell her he knew there was something going on under the surface, and then turned his eyes to the road and played along. "God, you're such a girl," he muttered.

Ziva saw him tense in expectation of a punch to his shoulder or side, but she elected to keep her hands to herself. There was always benefit to be had from keeping him on his toes.

* * *

><p>They reached the address that Gibbs had scrawled down for Tony in the nice, neat, upper-middle class suburb in Virginia Beach not too long after the boss. Gibbs was talking to McGee and scanning the street by the rear of their Charger as McGee unloaded his backpack from the trunk. When he laid eyes on the MCRT truck he didn't look even a little bit pissed, and so Tony guessed that they had made it there no more than three or four minutes behind the others. Pretty good considering the traffic and his refusal to let Ziva the wildcat take the wheel.<p>

"Game on," Tony said to her, and they both swung themselves out of the cabin and headed to the rear of the truck.

McGee had jogged over and had the back doors open by the time they joined him. The three of them started unloading the equipment they would need while Gibbs strode across the lawn to meet the local PD.

"Nice neighborhood," McGee noted to them, and then bent to check that his evidence case was properly stocked.

Ziva met Tony's eyes over McGee's back, but Tony read her thoughts and shook his head firmly. She wasn't supposed to know about McGee's cohabitation plans, and if she let on that she _did_ know then McGee would stop feeding information to Tony. And where would the fun be in that? Ziva sighed softly but kept her mouth shut, and Tony responded to McGee.

"And they're all made out of ticky-tacky, and they all look just the same, McSuzieHomemaker," he said.

"No, I just mean it looks quiet and safe," McGee said. "Kind of like the street I grew up on."

Tony looked around at the clutch of almost identical and soulless houses. "That explains a lot," he muttered, just loud enough for McGee to hear.

"There is no such thing as quiet and safe," Ziva said. "Particularly not in these Sunnydale-looking places." She gestured at the houses around them.

Tony and McGee paused collecting their things and stared at her. She'd clearly mistaken Sunnydale for another town, but neither could work out which one.

"Sunnydale's the one with the vampires, Ziva," Tony told her. "That place was never safe."

"Horrible murders. Every night," McGee added. "Demons and witches and something about an apocalypse…"

Ziva looked between them. "Where is that old fashioned small town from television?"

"Mayberry?" McGee suggested.

Ziva clicked her fingers. "Yes! Mayberry. Is that not the place that is held up as the epitome of simple living and small town values? And yet there was a lot of crime under the surface."

"I guess," Tony said.

Ziva picked up one of the crime scene kits and nodded with satisfaction. "So, my point is made, yes?" she said, and then turned and headed for the house.

Tony and McGee looked at each other, silently agreed that she was kind of crazy, and then picked up their own kits.

"Let's go see how many bodies the vampires left for us," Tony said.

Gibbs met them halfway across the lawn, his silver hair curling over his brow in the icy breeze, to give them a rundown on the case. "Victim is Tom West, aged 43. Lieutenant working out of Fort Story. Wife found him when she came home from work for lunch. Ziva, talk to the wife, she's around back. Victim's in the doorway. One of you two come through the back of the house. I don't want to step over the top of him."

Habit had Tony shadowing Ziva as she made her way up the driveway and towards the back of the house. Both of them scanned the tree line that marked the boundary between the victim's house and the neighbor's for anything that seemed off, but the area was as immaculate as the rest of the suburb looked. When they reached the side of the house Tony did a little twirl to take in which windows from which houses overlooked the area, made a mental note to question those residents about whether they saw anyone creeping around, and then turned again and jogged a few steps to catch up to Ziva. He reached her as they came up on the back door, but then paused again when a brightly colored swing set in the large, leafy back yard caught his attention. There was at least one kid involved here, and Tony felt his stomach sink. A spouse being left behind to deal with their partner's death was bad enough, but when kids were left behind as well it was always much worse.

He followed Ziva up the steps to the back door where they both paused to put booties on over their shoes before stepping into the neat, roomy kitchen. Upon first glance everything looked undisturbed. There were no obvious signs of a struggle. No blood or smashed windows or overturned chairs. It looked like every other upper-middle class kitchen Tony had walked into, right down to the finger paintings stuck to the fridge. Right off the kitchen was an informal meals area where a woman with tightly curled red hair sat at a round dining table. Tony was expecting the woman who lived in this house to be a tailored pants and silky blouse kind of woman, but instead he saw a woman about his age in black work boots, jeans and a loose grey t-shirt under a thick blue winter coat. Her legs were crossed so that the ankle of one foot rested against the knee of her other leg, and one hand was lifted to her face so that she could bite her thumbnail. She was completely still and stared off into the distance at nothing as tears rolled down her cheeks, and she looked so ashen that it took Tony a full five seconds of looking at her to realize that he knew her.

"Mrs West?" Ziva began.

The woman slowly blinked herself into the present and then turned her head towards them. Her eyes paused on Ziva for just a moment before continuing on to rest on Tony. Her expression didn't change, and he realized that she had probably expected to see either him or Gibbs in her house this afternoon.

"Viv?" he said, and stepped towards her.

One corner of Viv Blackadder's mouth barely turned up in greeting. He didn't take her subdued reaction to their reunion personally. "Hey, DiNozzo," she said.

Tony crouched beside her chair and found himself putting a comforting hand on her knee. "This is your house?"

One eyebrow barely lifted, like she couldn't believe she was the one at the centre of a crime scene for once. "My house, my nightmare."

Tony squeezed her knee and then cocked his head towards Ziva. "Viv, this is Special Agent Ziva David. She's going to take your statement."

Viv nodded dully and attempted a polite smile. "Sure."

Tony met Ziva's curious eyes and made the other half of the introduction. "Ziva this is Viv Blackadder. She—"

"West," Viv cut in, although not with offence. "It's Viv West now."

Tony could have smacked himself for getting that wrong on the same day her husband had died, but went on. "Viv West," he repeated. "She worked with me and Gibbs for a little while about ten years ago."

Ziva's eyebrows went up with surprise, before they fell into a curious frown. "Oh, are you an NCIS agent?" she asked.

Viv shook her head. "Not for a long time," she replied, and then looked at Tony. "You still with Gibbs or did you kill him and take his job?"

Tony smiled for her. "Tried to. He's indestructible. He's out front. Ducky'll be here soon."

The information actually brought a snort of disbelief out of Viv. "Ducky's still working?"

"Just try to stop him," Tony said, and then pushed himself up to his full height. He looked down at Viv with no small measure of sympathy. "We'll find out what happened, okay?"

Viv held his gaze and nodded slowly. "You always do, DiNozzo."

Tony nodded to her and hoped his expression was at least somewhat reassuring before glancing at Ziva. His partner nodded, indicating that she would be especially careful with her interview of a fellow law enforcement officer, and then Tony left them in the kitchen.

He scanned his surroundings carefully as he walked towards the front of the house. With Viv's involvement the case would end up being a little more personal than the rest, and for that reason it was even more important to pay attention while they did their work. Complacency was never tolerated on Team Gibbs, but even more so when another agent or ex-agent was involved. Their case would need to be air tight to get a conviction when they found the killer so that the prosecution couldn't argue that their emotions had gotten in the way of evidence that could have exonerated the person they charged.

The formal living room was as neat as the kitchen had been. Nothing looked out of place, and Tony decided that the fact in and of itself was worth looking into. From what he'd seen so far, and with the exception of the kid's play set out back, the house didn't look lived in. Either the Wests weren't home much, the killer had cleaned the place, or Tom West was the kind of Navy man who loved things ship shape. Tony cast his mind back to try to remember if Viv had struck him as a neat freak when they'd worked together, but he didn't think he'd ever had that impression of her.

The formal living room took him through to the hallway that ran down to the front door. Tom West lay in the doorway with one hand stretched out over the threshold, as if he'd been reaching for something at the moment he died. Gibbs stood by his hand and was bent forward at the waist as he tried to get a look at West's face, and McGee stood to the side and took the photos that would set the scene for how the body had been found. From a cursory glance, Tony couldn't see any injuries on West that would give them an indication of how he died. The collar of his light blue shirt was darkened with what could have been water, and his hair looked either damp with water or possibly hair gel at his temple. Aside from that, he looked like he'd just curled up on the floor for a nap. Tony wondered if this was the position Viv had found him in.

"Boss?" he called.

Gibbs pointed a gloved finger at West's temple, and spoke over his shoulder to McGee. "Get a shot of that. Looks like a bruise or graze or something."

McGee leaned in and took a few shots.

"Boss," Tony tried again.

Gibbs glanced up at him. "How's the house looking?"

"Immaculate," Tony replied. "But the wife?"

Gibbs' piercing blue eyes took on the slightest edge of interest. "She's not?"

"She's Viv Blackadder," Tony replied softly, not wanting to be heard in the kitchen. "This is her husband."

One white eyebrow arched over eyes that turned more sympathetic. "You sure?"

Tony nodded. "I just spoke to her."

"That name sounds familiar," McGee said.

Gibbs held Tony's gaze for another second, and then nodded and returned his attention to West.

"She used to work with me and Gibbs," Tony told McGee. "Pre-Kate."

Realization filled McGee's eyes. "Right. But she's not NCIS anymore, is she? I think Abby said she quit."

Tony nodded at him and then crouched by West's shoes. "Not much trauma here, by the looks of it," he said to Gibbs. "He's not bleeding through his chest, is he?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Don't think so. Start looking around, will you?"

Tony pushed himself to his feet again with the slightest of pained groans. "On it," he said, and headed upstairs.

Back in the kitchen, Ziva took a seat at the table with Viv and flipped open her notebook. "I am going to have to ask you a whole lot of questions now that you have probably asked other people a hundred times before."

Viv nodded and wiped her cheeks. "I know."

"Why don't you start by taking me through your day?"

"I got up at six. Tom was already out of bed, but I didn't see him before I went to take a shower. Got out about ten minutes later, got dressed and then got the kids out of bed, laid out their clothes and tried to encourage then to get dressed on their own." She shot Ziva a tired and familiar smile, as if the early morning routine for kids was something Ziva would be familiar with. Ziva smiled politely and nodded at her to continue. "I came down at about 0620. Tom was here in the kitchen making breakfast for us all. He likes to do that when he's home," she added, and her affection for it was clear on her face. "Pancakes. Not the most nutritious way to start the day but the kids eat every bite so I think it's fine every now and then."

"Of course," Ziva said, trying to let her know that she wasn't interested in judging her parenting techniques.

"Tom said he was going to go to the garden nursery today to try to find some vegetables to plant. He's always wanted a vegetable garden. But he didn't get to tell me much else about his plans for the day before Zoe called out from upstairs. She's our youngest," she told Ziva. "She couldn't get her pants on. Like every morning. So I went up to help her and sent Jack down to help Tom."

"So, it was just a regular morning?" Ziva asked.

"Normal for when Tom was home, yes," Viv said.

"And when you say that Tom was home, you mean he is on leave at the moment?" Ziva checked.

Viv sniffed and Ziva reached for a box of tissues from the counter. She slid it over and Viv plucked a tissue free with a smile of thanks, and nodded. "Yeah, he's been deployed for six months in Southeast Asia. He got back a few weeks ago and was due to have the next six months on leave."

That sparked Ziva's interest. "Any reason he took leave?"

Viv shook her head. "Just needed a break."

Ziva noted it down and made a mark next to the information to flag it for further investigation. "So, your husband was home when you left for the day?"

"Yes," Viv said. "I got the kids ready and kissed Tom goodbye…" She faltered then, and took a moment to compose herself. Ziva could see her struggling, but she managed to pull through without breaking down. Ziva didn't think much of it. Viv was in law enforcement. None of them liked breaking down.

"He said he looked forward to seeing me for lunch," Viv went on. "I said I'd come home and meet him. Then I took the kids to school and went on to work."

"Did you have any communication with him during the morning?" Ziva asked.

Viv pushed her hair behind her ear and reached for another tissue. "He called me about ten," she said, and blew her nose. "Not for any reason. It was just one of those calls, you know?"

Ziva was vaguely familiar with the calling-for-no-reason call. But not for a very long time. "Did he sound upset or anxious? Strange at all?"

"No," Viv said. "He was completely normal. He was on his way to the plant nursery."

"Do you know which nursery?"

"Not for sure. He didn't confirm it," Viv replied. "But we usually go to a place called Rodney's Plant Nursery. It's about a 20-minute drive from here."

Ziva wrote the name of the nursery down, and the time Tom called. "Did you speak to him again after that?"

"No," Viv said softly. "But I wasn't expecting to, so when I didn't hear from him I didn't think anything of it."

Ziva nodded easily so that Viv would know she thought it was a normal reaction. "When did you get home?"

"It wasn't until 1.30. I'd planned to come earlier, but I got held up at work. I tried to call him to tell him I'd be late, but he didn't answer. I left a voicemail." She paused and her eyes wandered out the kitchen window. "I should have known something had happened then, but I was so preoccupied with work."

"What time did you call him?" Ziva asked. They could compare the information to Ducky's estimated time of death.

"Midday," Viv replied. "I had planned to leave work then, but I couldn't. So I called."

Ziva noted it down. "Okay. So, what happened when you got home?"

Viv bit her lip and took another moment to compose herself. "I saw the front door was open as I came around the bend in the street, but I didn't see Tom until I was in the driveway."

"Where did you see him?"

"He was lying in the doorway, like he is now."

"You did not move him?" Ziva checked.

Viv shook her head firmly. "No. I lifted his head, and when he didn't respond I checked for a pulse." She gripped her hands together and shuddered. "He, uh, he was cool to the touch. No pulse. He wasn't breathing. It was clear to me that he was…gone."

"Could you see any signs of trauma or injury?" Ziva asked. She hadn't seen the body herself yet, so she hoped Tom West didn't have a gaping head wound—that would make her sound insensitive.

But Viv shook her head. "No. His hair and collar were wet, like he'd just taken a shower. But he had no visible injuries."

Ziva wondered about that. If he hadn't been clearly shot or stabbed or beaten, if he just looked like he always did, but with wet hair, why didn't she make an attempt to save him? "So, you did not attempt CPR?" she asked gently. She wasn't accusing Viv of giving up, exactly. And she didn't want Viv to think that she was. But she needed to confirm that Viv really hadn't moved Tom at all.

Viv clenched her jaw and closed her eyes briefly, but seemed to have the presence of mind to understand Ziva didn't mean offence. "No. I didn't touch him or move him. But I sat by him on the step as I called 911."

"And did—"

Viv held up her hand. "Wait, I need to correct that. I touched his face. As I was sitting by him, I was stroking his face and talking to him."

Ziva felt a stab of empathy for her. Viv's restraint was admirable for a law enforcement officer. If she came home and found Tony dead on the floor—Tony, who technically wasn't anything to her except her friend and coworker—she didn't know that she'd be able to follow protocol and leave him alone.

"Thank you," she said to Viv, and corrected her notes. "Did you see anyone in the area when you came home? Anyone who did not look like they belonged?"

"No. No one."

"Viv, did you check your house at all?" Ziva asked.

Viv stared at her for a moment, and Ziva could see her investigator brain starting to turn. "No," she admitted. "I didn't enter the house until the paramedics and the police showed up. They didn't move him either, although the paramedics checked for signs of life. Um…" she took a moment to think and rubbed at her forehead. "I told the police that Tom is Navy, and that they should call you. One officer led me here, but I don't know where the other one was. He might've checked the house."

"But you did not."

"No."

Ziva noted it down. She had no idea what Tom's cause of death was, or if it at all suspicious. But if he had been killed, they had to consider that the killer was in the house when Viv had arrived home.

"Viv?"

Ziva looked up as Gibbs entered the kitchen. He glanced at Ziva before coming to stand beside his ex-team member, and put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked her.

Viv gave him a brief smile, but there wasn't a whole lot of warmth to it. "Not really," she admitted.

"I'm sorry," Gibbs told her gently, but again, there wasn't the warmth there that Ziva expected. She wondered what had happened between them. Ziva knew that Gibbs wasn't a warm and cuddly kind of man, but he still enjoyed a level of camaraderie with the people who worked for him. He had clearly enjoyed working with Stan Burley, and although Ziva had never witnessed it she had plenty of evidence that he had great affection for Kate Todd. And his friendship with Mike Franks had been strong to the end. She wondered why he and Viv didn't have the same affection.

Viv wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up to face him. "I'm glad it's you and Tony on this," she told him. "I need answers. A healthy man doesn't just drop dead for no reason."

Gibbs nodded for her. "We'll work it out, Viv. Ducky's arrived. He'll get to the bottom of it."

"Of course."

"You got someone you can call?" Gibbs asked her.

Viv nodded as she jammed her hands in her jeans pockets. "My dad will be here soon. I asked Mom to pick up the kids from school."

Gibbs seemed to warm a little at that. "You got kids?"

"A boy and a girl."

Gibbs nodded knowingly. "Good," he said, and then looked over at Ziva. "Head upstairs and help DiNozzo," he told her.

Ziva stood and nodded as she flipped her notebook shut. "On it."

She walked through the house to the staircase and looked at family photos covering the walls on the way to the second floor. Beaming parents and giggling kids, studio portraits and happy snaps in the garden. Ecstatic kids holding their uniformed father in a death grip as he returned to shore. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It looked like they'd had a nice life, and Ziva felt a touch of envy. This was evidence of another couple who had made it work despite the difficulties their jobs threw up. More evidence that it could be done if you just tried and committed.

Ziva still held firm that it would be easier for couples who didn't work together.

She found Tony in the master bedroom, taking photos of the Wests' nightstands. He looked up at her footsteps and gave her a quick onceover out of habit before taking another shot.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Composed," Ziva replied. "Trying to be, anyway."

"That's a cop for you," Tony said, and snapped another shot.

"Anything of interest up here?"

Tony gestured towards the door to the en suite with his chin. "Bathroom's wet."

Ziva walked over and peered inside the bathroom. She found out-of-date tiles, fixtures and fittings covered in water, and the bathmat that had been left on the floor was soaking wet in a large puddle of water. She looked down at where the bathroom tiles met the bedroom carpet and found another wet spot.

"Did it flood?" she asked.

"Local LEO said the faucet was running when he searched the house," Tony said. "Spilled out of the sink and soaked the floor."

"But the mirror and the shower and even the walls look wet too," Ziva noted. "Viv said Tom's hair was wet when she found him."

"Still is," Tony said. "His head's been out in the freezing cold all afternoon."

"That's odd," she said, mostly to herself.

"Guess we should investigate that," Tony said, and then snapped a photo of her just as she turned to give him a withering look. He grinned at her predictability.

"I guess so," she replied.

She walked to the wardrobe and opened it up. Tom's side was very neat and tidy. Viv's was crammed full. It didn't look as though anything was missing; certainly no one had been packing to move out. And Ziva hadn't gotten the impression that their marriage was in trouble, anyway.

"Typical," Tony said over her shoulder. "This is why you need separate closets. So the wife's side doesn't start consuming her husband's."

Ziva looked over her shoulder at him in disbelief. "You have more clothes than anyone I have ever known," she told him. "Your closet is so full there could be a door to Narnia in there and you would never know."

Tony stepped back and gave her his patented half caught out, half defensive look. "I like suits," was his only argument.

Ziva closed the closet doors, and then peeked into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before gossiping to him. "I do not know about McGee's closet, but Cassie's is almost as bad as yours."

Tony made a face. "They're going to have to work that out before they shack up, or else it'll never work." He paused and gave her a considered look. "You'd need a whole separate room just for all your coats."

Ziva imagined that and found that she liked the idea. "Like a big coat room like they have at the theatre? That is a good idea, DiNozzo," she said, and gave his arm a little smack before moving past him and into the hallway. She followed it down to the kids' room and stepped inside.

There weren't any surprises in the room, aside from how clean it was. Twin beds with bedspreads covered in illustrations of superheroes. Wonder Woman and Superman. A large container full of toys. A bookshelf with more toys and some books. A little desk with an iPad, and a TV bolted to the wall. Ziva approached the window and found it locked tight, and so she turned and went to the next room, a bedroom that had been converted to a study. Tony was already in there, poking through a few sheets of perfectly stacked paper on the desk. The rest of the room was immaculate, with the desk blotter, pen and computer screen all placed perfectly. The chair was pushed in, all the drawers were closed and the books on the shelves were lined up with precision. Ziva resisted the urge to tiptoe through the room to check the window. It was locked as well.

"Neat and tidy," she commented to Tony.

"Understatement," he replied. "I bet the desk has even recently been polished. It's like the rest of the house." He paused and looked up at her. "How many people with two kids under six manage to keep their houses this clean?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Ziva stepped closer to him and cocked her head to the side in interest. "Do you think someone tidied up after Tom died?"

Tony blinked at her. "No, I just meant they're really super neat."

"Oh," Ziva said, and moved away again. "Do you recall Viv being like this when you worked together?"

"No, but that doesn't mean that she wasn't," Tony said. "Just means I didn't notice."

Ziva went back to being interested. "What happened?" she had to ask.

"When?"

"When she worked with you," Ziva said. "You don't remember what she was like—and you are someone who remembers everything about what _everyone_ was like—and her interaction with Gibbs downstairs was…strange. Like they were simply acquaintances. It is unlike you two to be so distant with someone you used to work with."

Tony tugged on a few of the locked drawers. "We just didn't get to know each other," he told her.

Ziva eyed him. There was something he wasn't saying. She could tell by the way he avoided her eyes and hunched his shoulders. "But something happened," she said. "What was it?"

Tony looked up as footsteps came up the stairs. He moved to leave the room, but brushed past her on his way. "We'll talk later," he said to her, and then left the room. Ziva had no choice but to follow.

They ran into Gibbs standing in the doorway to the master bedroom. He lifted his eyebrows at them in question, and Tony gestured with his head towards the room.

"Bathroom," he whispered. "Something happened in there."

Gibbs nodded, and they all walked a couple of steps down the hallway away from the master bedroom door. "She's grabbing clothes for her and the kids and then we'll go over every inch of the place," Gibbs said. "Ducky'll do an autopsy tonight."

"Where's McGee?" Tony asked.

"Helping Ducky," Gibbs said. He looked at Ziva. "Anything from your interview?"

"Normal morning routine for when Tom West is at home," Ziva said. "He returned from Southeast Asia a few weeks ago and has been on leave ever since. He had six months' leave planned."

"Why?" Tony asked with a slight frown.

"Needed some time off," Ziva replied, and looked between her teammates. They both wore the same vaguely suspicious expression, and Ziva nodded. "We will look into that. Mrs West said they made plans to have lunch together at home today. She was running late and tried to call him at midday to tell him, but he did not answer. She got home at 1.30 and found him in the doorway."

Gibbs nodded as Viv came out of the master bedroom, carrying an overnight bag. She looked worried.

"There has been a flood or something in the bathroom."

"We'll check it out," Gibbs told her. "Best to stay out of it for now."

Viv looked back towards the bedroom, as if she was trying to think of a reason for the mess in her otherwise pristine house. But it was beyond her at that moment. She dropped her overnight bag by the stairs, and then came towards them to access the kids' room. Tony and Ziva moved out of the way and tried to make it less obvious that they had all been talking about her. But of course they had been. Ziva felt badly enough to follow her into the kids' bedroom.

"Let me help you," she offered.

Gibbs watched them until they were out of sight and then addressed Tony. "Go over the bathroom first and work your way down to the front door before going over the rest of the house."

"Got it."

Gibbs hesitated, and looked fleetingly appalled with himself before getting back on track. "And look for signs of marital problems."

Tony arched an eyebrow. It wasn't as though people in law enforcement never crossed the line and turned to murder, and it wasn't as though sometimes, those people weren't women. But Viv had been on _their_ team, and accusing a team member of murder always felt so wrong.

"You saw something that pointed to her involvement?" Tony asked, lowering his voice as far as it would go.

Gibbs glanced towards the kids' bedroom before giving Tony a labored, one-shouldered shrug. "Can't say. But sometimes you're right, DiNozzo. Sometimes the wife really did it."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope that's enough to get you interested :)<strong>  
><strong>It should be obvious if you've made it this far that this story isn't for people who dislike Ziva or wish all trace of her was gone. No hard feelings if you want to let this one go quietly.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva peeled off her Latex gloves and jammed them into her pants pocket a few minutes after 2200. The team had done all they could do at the Wests' house tonight. They'd snapped photos of every room, every interesting mark and the single smear of blood that Tony found on the tiles around the edge of the bathtub in the en suite. They'd collected fingerprints from around the front and back doors, bagged Tom West's cell phone, grabbed everything from the trash in the en suite and kitchen and meticulously inspected the carpet in the foyer where Tom West had fallen. It hadn't come as a surprise that in a house as clean as this one, there had not been much to find.

Ziva planted her hands into the small of her back and pushed out her chest in a stretch. What she really wanted right now after nine hours at a chilly crime scene was to go home and have a bath. It was a pity she didn't have one in her apartment.

"You done in here?"

She looked over her shoulder as Tony walked into the living room. He looked as tired as she felt. "Yes. I think we have everything."

Tony peeled off his gloves and put them in his pocket. "And in this case, everything isn't much of anything."

Ziva turned her neck roll into a shrug. "We do not know that yet."

Tony didn't argue. "All right. Let's lock up and get out."

"Where is McGee?"

"Packing the van."

Ziva picked up her evidence case and followed Tony to the kitchen. She hovered as he locked the back door. "We should drop him at Cassie's on the way to the Navy Yard."

"Why does he get an early mark?" Tony asked, outraged.

"Because it would be nice for him and Cassie," she reasoned.

Tony turned off the kitchen light, and they both headed for the front door. "If McAssie wants to make a go of it they'll have to get used to never seeing each other."

Ziva rolled her eyes to herself. She knew Tony wasn't really that bitter. But he could be petty enough to begrudge someone if they got an early mark and he didn't. "Tony, we are not going to do anything more tonight," she said sensibly. "We will drop off the evidence bags, see if Ducky has a cause of death, and then go home."

"McGee is integral to making all that run smoothly," Tony said.

"Do not be grumpy," she chastised.

"I'm not grumpy," he protested. "I'm the other dwarf. Sleepy."

"Then I will drive," she said. "And we will drop off Happy on our way to see Doc."

Tony shot her a suspicious side eye as she stepped through the front door onto the porch. "You know a lot about dwarfs."

"Stop it," she said with a little smirk. "You will make me Bashful."

Tony snorted as he turned to close the door and check it was locked. "Oh yeah, you're bashful," he drawled. "That's the first thing people say to me when they're talking about you. _Oh, you're Ziva's partner? She's the bashful one, right?_ Happens almost daily."

She took it with good humor. "I think you are laying your sarcasm on a little thick," she said helpfully. She eyed him as they walked down the driveway to the MCRT truck. "What do people say to you about me?" she asked.

Tony's head swung in her direction, and he took a moment to gauge whether the question was serious. When she didn't shake her head or backpedal on the question, he started laughing. "I'm not answering that."

"Why not?"

"Because I would be committing suicide."

Ziva frowned. "What is that supposed to mean? I asked what other people said to you about me. Not what _you_ think of me. I already know what you think of me."

Tony opened his mouth, thought better of asking, and then closed his mouth again. Then changed his mind. "What do you think I think of you?"

Ziva stopped to face him, and Tony watched her with an expression that was as close to blank as his face got. "You think I am scary. And crazy. Too impulsive. But I look okay in a bikini."

He frowned deeply. "That's it?"

She shrugged, and rolled her shoulders again. "The main bullet points."

He stared at her in disbelief before shaking his head. "We need to have another serious talk at some point, Bashful," he said as he turned around again and headed off to the truck.

With butterflies in her stomach, Ziva caught up with him and McGee at the back of the truck, and the three of them stowed their bags and all the evidence they'd collected safely. When they were done, Tony slammed the doors and reached into his pocket for the keys to the truck. He froze when he found his pocket empty.

"Crap," he muttered, and started patting down his other pockets in case he'd moved them and forgotten. He looked up when he heard a jingle, and saw the keys hanging off Ziva's index finger. "When did you take those?"

She gave him a smile that bordered on smug. "Two seconds ago. You said you were sleepy. I am driving."

Tony groaned. "Come on, Ziva."

"I will go easy on you," she promised. "McGee, we are dropping you at Cassie's place on the way to the Navy Yard."

McGee brightened. "Yeah? Why do I get to go home early?"

"Because I like you," Ziva said with a wink. "And because Tony and I need to have a serious talk."

Tony's groan got louder. "Not _now!_" he argued. "I'm _sleepy_ now!"

McGee looked between them. "Do I want to know what's going on?"

"No," Tony and Ziva said in unison.

"Okay."

Ziva swung the keys off her finger and caught them in her hand. "Come on. Let's go."

…

"What does _prickly_ mean? I am not a cactus!"

Gibbs and Ducky paused the conversation they were having over the body of Tom West and looked up as the doors to the autopsy suite swooshed open. Tony, his face twisted in brutal agony, led Ziva into the room. With her arms crossed and a scowl etched deep into her face, she did appear rather prickly. But it didn't sound like she was pleased with what Gibbs assumed had been Tony's assessment of her.

"It's what you're being now," Tony told her on a sigh.

"All I am doing now is asking questions," Ziva replied. She was clearly trying to make it sound like she wasn't annoyed with her partner, but the way her voice rose an octave gave her away.

"It doesn't matter," Tony said, trying to shut the conversation down.

Ziva's hands went to her hips before she regarded Gibbs and Ducky. "Tony told me I am prickly. And now he will not tell me what he meant by that."

Gibbs slid his eyes over to DiNozzo, who looked like he wanted to shoot himself. Gibbs didn't blame him. What the hell had he been thinking?

"I'm very tired," Tony told them.

"Ah," Ducky said at Tony's explanation of his slip up. "The cause of many foolish decisions."

"Perhaps we could pick this conversation up again a little later?" Tony suggested to her. "My calendar's looking free in about 75 years' time."

Ziva shot him a frown, but Gibbs was only too eager to help Tony out on this one.

"Just take it up after we're done here," he said tersely, and turned back to Ducky. "What were you getting at before these two boneheads interrupted, Duck?"

"Our Mr West has an abrasion on his right temple," Ducky said, and circled his gloved finger over the mark Gibbs had caught at the crime scene. "Very small, irregular scratches of just a few millimeters each, with some bruising beneath."

"He was hit with something," Gibbs guessed.

"Or he fell against something," Tony said, leaning over to look more closely at the abrasion. "We found a very small transfer of blood in the bathroom. There was a border of tiles around the rim of the bathtub, and we found the blood right against the edge on the outer side."

"The bathroom was flooded," Ziva picked up. "He could have slipped on the water, fallen and hit his head."

Tony straightened up again. "But then how did he get downstairs?"

"This blow wasn't fatal," Ducky cut in. "The poor fellow would have developed a terrible headache, but it did not kill him."

"Oh," Tony said. "So he could've walked downstairs on his own."

"Yes."

Tony crossed his arms. "Well. That solves that," he muttered to himself.

"What did kill him?" Gibbs wanted to know. He was loosing his patience. Like always. Ziva wasn't the only one who was prickly these days.

Ducky gestured at the body on the slab, covered to his neck by a sheet. "I can't be sure yet, but I believe he suffered sudden cardiac death."

Gibbs took a moment. That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "A heart attack?"

"This guy looks pretty fit," Tony pointed out. "And he's only 43."

"Tony is almost 43," Ziva shot in. Tony scowled at her.

"He was very fit," Ducky confirmed, ignoring Ziva's dig at her partner. "In fact, his heart muscle is in excellent condition. As are the rest of his organs. He did not have a heart attack, however. As I said, he suffered a sudden cardiac death. It is often caused by choking or anaphylaxis, but I found no obstruction of the airways. Nor did I find any clots or thinning of his arteries. No signs of necrosis or congenital heart disease—"

"Ducky?" Gibbs cut in.

"Hmm?"

"If you found none of that, then why do you think it's how he died?"

"There is a separation in his aortic walls."

"Sounds painful," Tony said.

"I believe he had an acute aortic dissection," Ducky went on. "Which led to a change in the conduction system of his heart. Arrhythmia."

"I didn't think arrhythmia was usually fatal," Gibbs said.

"No. Not these days. Toxicology will tell us more about what brought it on. But I imagine it was very sudden."

"So sudden that he did not have time to call 911?" Ziva asked.

Ducky nodded thoughtfully. "It is rare, but certainly a possibility."

Tony held his hands up. "Okay, so if he basically had a heart attack—"

"Sudden cardiac death," Ducky corrected again.

"Yeah, that," Tony said, gesturing at Ducky. "That sounds like a natural causes kind of thing. Which NCIS doesn't investigate."

"It might be natural causes," Ducky agreed. "Or it might not be. I will need more information before I can make a determination."

"When?" Gibbs asked.

"Tomorrow."

Gibbs nodded. He'd expected as much. "Okay," he said, and looked over at Tony and Ziva. "Head home. Tell McGee. We'll start on building a background tomorrow morning."

Tony drummed his fingers on the edge of the autopsy slab and then gave a nod and slid his hand into his pocket. "Okay. Night boss. Doctor."

Gibbs watched his agents turn, but was then overcome by a moment of mischief. "Ziva?" He waited until they both turned to look at him again. "Prickly means bad tempered. Irritable. Generally difficult. That kind of thing."

Ziva's lips parted a little way before her mouth snapped shut again and she pursed her lips. Beside her, Tony's face fell into an expression of utter betrayal rather than the _schadenfreude_ Gibbs expected. In fact, Tony's hurt at _Ziva's_ hurt actually succeeded in making Gibbs feel a little bad about what he'd just done. He had the feeling he'd misread the argument between them as something far more lighthearted than it actually was.

"Thanks, boss," Tony said to him, his tone heavy with disappointment. "Solid move." He turned again and followed Ziva out of the room.

"Jethro," Ducky began admonishingly as the autopsy door swooshed closed.

But Gibbs didn't need him to say anything more. "Yeah," he sighed. "I know."

Tony jumped onto the elevator with his partner, and then hit the emergency brake as soon as the elevator started to rise. He wanted to clear this up, because he'd been planning on giving her a softer definition before bigmouth Gibbs had involved himself.

"Just to clarify," he began, turning to face Ziva head on, "I was not the one who called you prickly. You asked me what other people had said to me about you."

Ziva crossed her arms and leaned back against the elevator wall. She nodded easily, but there was embarrassment in her eyes. "I know," she said thinly.

"And it's usually defense lawyers who say that to me," he went on. "So I reckon that means you're doing your job."

She shot him a quick smile.

He took a step closer to her. "I also make sure to tell them to go to hell."

Ziva pushed off the wall and started the elevator again. "I do not need you to defend me, Tony," she said softly.

"I know, but you're my partner and my friend, and if someone talks smack about you, I get to tell them off," he challenged.

She looked like she was going to argue, but then her shoulders slumped and she sighed as she let it go. "Thank you."

He eyed her warily. She was dropping the conversation, but he could tell it would weigh on her mind for a while. He wished they were 500 miles away right now so he could hug her and tell her plainly that he, for one, _liked_ those moments when she was prickly (to other people). But they had a rule, so he would have to keep his arms and affections to himself and come at her as a friend. "You want to come over?"

Ziva shook her head. "No. You are tired."

"I'm wide awake," he lied.

"I just want to have a bath and go to bed."

He thought about that. "You don't have a bath in your apartment."

The elevator stopped on the bullpen floor and the doors swished open.

"Then I will just soak my feet in the kitchen sink," Ziva said, and stepped off the lift.

Tony made a face at her back and followed her out onto the floor. "You don't normally do that, do you?" he checked.

She didn't reply, but Tony decided to believe that she didn't. It didn't really feel like her style. He gathered his things from his desk as Ziva did the same, and they both finished up and headed back to the elevator at the same time.

"Well, if you don't want to come to my place, why don't I come to yours?" he suggested. "We don't even have to watch a movie. We can just talk about McAssie behind their backs."

She 'tsk'ed at him. "Tony."

"Come on," he implored. "We can place bets on what they'll call their translucent kids."

Ziva stabbed at the button for the ground floor and then smiled up at him from under her lashes. "Perhaps tomorrow," she said.

He stood quietly by her side as the elevator descended to the ground floor. She'd given him a clear 'no' tonight (and okay, he actually was really, really tired, so her rejection wasn't such a bad thing), but he still had the urge to leave her with something that would make her feel better. By the time they'd walked out of the NCIS building and across to the car park he still hadn't come up with the magic words. So he had to just go with whatever popped into his head.

"Hey," he said to her as they reached the bumper of her car. "Who cares what some parasite defense lawyer thinks of you? Consider how bad their judgment of character must be."

Ziva tilted her face up towards him and smiled softly. "They are not wrong," she said. "I am prickly. And honestly, it does not bother me that people may not like me. I just thought that I had lost the ice queen bitch label that I used to have."

Tony jerked his head back in surprise. "No one said anything about ice queen bitch."

She chuckled, shocking him even more. "Oh, yes they did," she said, and then shrugged like it was no big deal to her. "Not for a while, but it happened." She shook her head dismissively. "It does not matter. I will see you tomorrow."

Tony took a step forward as she took one backwards. "Wait, who called you that?" he asked. The label bothered him greatly, even if it didn't seem to bother her. Anymore, at least.

Ziva shrugged. "Who can remember?" she said offhandedly. She glanced around them and then stepped in to him, very briefly kissed his cheek, and stepped back again. "Good night, Tony."

As brief as the kiss was, it still made his heart hammer as he watched her get into her car. He stepped out of the way to give her space to reverse out of her space without hitting him, and then returned her wave as she put the car in drive and then sped off. He watched her car until it was out of sight, and then sighed heavily as he fished his keys out of his pocket. As tired as he was, he didn't think he would get much sleep tonight.

…

Ziva's first attempt at sleep failed. After half an hour of trying to quiet her racing mind, and trying and failing to find a comfortable position to sleep in, she accepted defeat. If she wasn't going to sleep, she at least wanted to do something productive with the time, so she sat up, turned on the lamp beside her bed and reached for her laptop. She had emails from her aunt and Schmiel to return, and she needed to research Christmas gifts for McGee. But the first thing she did when she logged on to her computer was Google 'prickly'.

After the botanic description, she found what she was looking for. _Bad-tempered or irritable, full of difficulties._ Ziva pursed her lips. She wasn't bad-tempered, was she? Or irritable? She knew she rubbed some people the wrong way—mostly intentionally—but did she do that unwittingly to her friends? Did they find her difficult and irritable? Surely some of it could be put down to cultural differences and the environment she had grown up in (or that her friends had grown up in—she did not know what the hell had happened in Abby's childhood to make her so staunchly pro-hug and openly emotional). And surely they knew she was trying hard to be more open and less hard for them. But wasn't she allowed to have a bad day every now and then without being labeled 'bad-tempered'? Wasn't everyone?

She rolled her eyes at herself for getting so hung up on it and opened her email, determined to get over it. She had gotten only as far as typing Schmiel's name though before she was distracted by a Skype alert for an incoming call from Tony. She rolled her eyes again and ran her hands through her hair before accepting the call.

"I thought you were going to bed," she said to him. Indeed, the face that stared back at her looked like it was in desperate need of some rest. Judging by the hint of bare shoulders she could see, she guessed he might have even made an attempt at sleep like she had. But here he was, calling her in the middle of the night.

"I'm unpredictable," he told her. "Why are you still awake?"

"I am a ball of energy," she replied flatly.

Tony smirked, but it fell quickly. "About the prickly thing—"

"Forget it," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Really, it does not matter to me."

"But I thought I should throw around some of the other words I hear to describe you," he said.

"Oh, lord," Ziva sighed. She moved the laptop off to the side of her mattress and lay down on her side, and then arranged the screen so they could see each other again. Tony raised his eyebrows with interest.

"Bed, huh?"

She returned the eyebrow. "Well it has been a while for us, yes?"

Tony caught onto her meaning immediately. "Five months."

Ziva would have teased him for counting off the days since they'd last slept together if she wasn't so acutely aware of it herself. As it was, there were days when she wanted him so badly that even brushing against his arm made her entire body erupt into throbbing tingles. As some of those tingles started spreading through her lower half, Tony shifted so that he was lying down on his side as well.

"Bed, huh?" she returned at the sight of his pillows and comforter.

Tony opened his mouth to reply, and she could tell by the look in his eye that whatever he was going to say would be flirtatious. But then he thought better of it. "Sleepy," he said. "I was surfing around before I saw you come online."

"What were you looking at?" she asked, and then covered her mouth with her hand as she yawned.

Tony broke into a wide smile before laughing and rubbing his eyes tiredly. The sight of him unguarded made Ziva grin. "I'm not detailing my Google search history to you," he said.

"You think I would not approve?"

"I _know_ you would not approve," he replied.

"I have been meaning to have a frank discussion with you about your desire for centaur pornography," she said, deadpan.

Tony laughed again, the kind of laugh that made it clear her was approaching delirium, and wiped his eyes before playing along with her. "It's not a centaur, Ziva," he insisted, playing up his frustration. "It's a unicorn."

"Either way, it needs to stop."

Tony shifted, moving his laptop and the camera closer to him. "I really want to Google unicorn porn now."

"I bet you will regret it," she predicted.

He smiled warmly at her. "You're not prickly, Ziva," he said. "And my thoughts about you extend well past 'scary' and 'looks okay in a bikini'. And on that, I have to say that 'okay' probably isn't the adjective I would use."

She smiled for him, appreciating that their conversation had bothered him enough that he wanted to make it better. "Thank you."

"I'll give you a list of more appropriate words one day when we're further away from ground zero."

"You do not need to do that."

He waggled his eyebrows. "But I may be driven to."

The same way she may be driven to ridding him of his clothes and climbing on top of him. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, so she changed the subject to something much safer. "Do you think McGee will ask Cassie to move in with him tonight?"

"I don't know. He just told me he was going to ask her. He didn't discuss a schedule with me."

"You did not ask?"

Tony blinked slowly. It looked like he was finally beginning to fall asleep. "I don't remember."

"He should ask soon," she told him, as if Tony had any sway in the situation. "Before Cassie loses her mind."

"They'll be fine," Tony said. "The ones we have to worry about are Gibbs and Abby."

Ziva understood why Abby would have a hard time accepting it. But she was at a loss over Gibbs' problem. "Why Gibbs?"

Tony's eyes drooped further, and the sight caused a comfortably familiar feeling to settle in Ziva's stomach. "Because after they move in together, the next step is to have a family," he explained. "For McGee, anyway. Gibbs is going to realize that soon he'll have a team member whose attention is split between work and home. And he's not going to know how to handle that."

Ziva frowned, both because she realized he was right, and because she wondered if that was another nail in the coffin of any relationship she and Tony might be able to cobble together in the future.

Tony noticed the look, but didn't understand where it came from. "What's that face?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you making that face?" he asked. "You don't think Gibbs'll freak out?"

"Well, 'freak out' might be a bit too strong of a description," she said.

"Panic stoically then," Tony revised.

"Yes. He probably will." She frowned harder. "But do you not think he also wants McGee to be happy?"

Tony blinked slowly at her again, and she wondered if he understood that she was not simply asking about McGee. "Yes," he finally replied. "But I think it will still depend on what makes McGee happy."

Ziva swallowed. Clearly, he did understand that she was not simply asking about McGee, and so his answer made her heart fall. "I suppose," she said softly.

"Maybe McGee will do what makes him happy anyway," Tony told her. "And let Gibbs panic stoically, because what Gibbs does is not really McGee's problem."

She gave him a quick smile. "Hmm."

"Ziva—"

"You look like you are about to fall asleep," she cut in.

He stared at her quietly for a moment, and she held her breath waiting for him to force a conversation that she wasn't sure she knew how to have. But he didn't. He blinked slowly and let out a long breath. "We should do this again some time."

"Skype through insomnia?"

"You're nicer to look at than the ceiling."

Ziva narrowed her eyes as she worked through his 'compliment'. "Thank you?" she tried.

"You're welcome." He shot her a grin that made her stomach flip. "Goodnight."

"See you tomorrow," she replied, and then logged out. She shut down her computer and placed it on her nightstand, and turned the lamp off again. After a little bit of wriggling round she found a fairly comfortable position, and then closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. But, with Tony's veiled thoughts about their relationship fresh in her mind, it was no surprise that an hour later she was still wide-awake.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Honestly, I'm completely surprised but also delighted that there are still people here who are keen to read fic including Ziva. I suppose since I'm so far removed from the fandom now that I don't have a good idea of who is around. It's so nice to hear from so many familiar names. Thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited or alerted the last chapter, and to those who just read it quietly and have come back for more. I hope you continue to enjoy this.**


	3. Chapter 3

"So, natural causes?" McGee asked the next morning. "NCIS doesn't investigate deaths by natural causes."

"Thank you for the reminder, Agent McGee," Gibbs drawled from behind his desk. "Except you're forgetting something."

"That we investigate until we can prove it was natural causes," Ziva picked up. She twirled her pen in her fingers and pointed it at McGee as she raised her eyebrow. McGee rolled his eyes at her challenge.

"Yeah, I know that," he said he said, half sighing. "But hasn't Ducky essentially just proven that?"

"We haven't gone through all the evidence from the house yet," Gibbs said. "Haven't got a tox report back. Haven't checked into Lieutenant West's work history or his marriage."

"You think Viv had something to do with his death?" McGee asked, incredulous.

Gibbs shrugged and returned his attention to the file on his desk. "Don't know," he replied simply.

McGee looked to Ziva for her reaction, and then looked back at Gibbs. "She used to work for you," McGee pointed out.

"Yup."

"You wouldn't work with a murderer," McGee insisted.

"Well, she wasn't a murderer back then," Gibbs said.

"No," McGee agreed weakly. "But wouldn't your gut know that she was a bad egg?"

Gibbs raised his eyes slowly until his gaze settled on McGee. He didn't respond, but McGee got the feeling that Gibbs really _did_ have cause to believe that the ex-NCIS agent was a bad egg.

"Why did she leave the team?" Ziva asked casually.

That was what McGee suddenly wanted to know as well. There was something fishy going on, and Ziva obviously felt it too. And if Gibbs wasn't going to be forthcoming about it, McGee would just have to go to Abby.

Gibbs pursed his lips, and then gave McGee the smallest of shrugs. "Creative differences," he said, and then returned to his work.

McGee's gaze slid over to Ziva. His teammate's eyes were narrowed like they got when she suspected Tony of keeping something from her. But McGee doubted that she would hold Gibbs' arm behind his back and whisper threats into his ear until he squealed. They would definitely have to go to Abby on this.

"Good morning, A-Team," Tony said as he swept into the room. "Nice to see you all again on such a beautiful day."

Three sets of eyes lifted from their desks to stare at the unexpectedly chipper DiNozzo as he made his way to his desk. McGee narrowed his eyes like Ziva just had at Gibbs.

"What's with you?" he asked. "Did you have sex?" He looked at Ziva. "Who's he dating?"

Ziva shook her head cluelessly as Tony dumped his backpack and wandered over to McGee's desk.

"Can't I just be in a good mood?" Tony asked with a smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.

"No," McGee replied, letting his suspicion be known.

Tony reached over McGee's desk to take his head between both hands, and then leaned over to kiss the top of his head. "At ease, Timmy," Tony said. "You don't need to be on duty right now."

McGee stared at Tony with surprise before his gaze again slid around to take in Ziva's reaction. She seemed wary of Tony's mood, but clearly wasn't going to challenge him on it. McGee took her cue.

"You're late," Gibbs grunted at his senior field agent.

Tony headed back to his desk. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Too many sheep to count. What did I miss here?"

"Nothing yet," McGee said. "I was just about to start tracking Lieutenant West's movements before he arrived back onshore."

"And I was going to start tracking his movements after he arrived home," Ziva added.

Tony nodded, but he felt a little lost for something to do. Cases that involved a death by natural causes didn't require the same level of background research that regular cases did, and right now he didn't have a suspect to chase down. But for the moment they had to proceed as if the death was suspicious. "I guess I'll get in touch with the nursery Viv said Lieutenant West was planning to visit. See if he ever made it."

"There did not appear to be any plants inside or outside the house that needed planting," Ziva said.

"Maybe he didn't end up buying anything."

Ziva shrugged and returned to her computer.

"Anything from the tox screen yet?" Tony asked hopefully, even though he already knew the answer.

"Nope," Gibbs said.

Tony opened his email and sighed at everything that had come in overnight. He hoped most of it could be deleted. "I'll get in touch with the USS MacAllister as well and make arrangements for us to talk to West's commander in MTAC."

"Notification?" McGee asked.

Tony shook his head, but Gibbs was the one who answered.

"To find out why he needed six months' leave, McGee."

"Oh," McGee said like it was obvious. He looked at Ziva. "Did his wife say anything about it?"

"No," Ziva said. "She did not provide any detail."

"It's kind of weird," McGee said. "My dad only ever took a week or two at a time when I was a kid. And not often."

"My father never took time off," Ziva said. "Although I concede that he should not be considered a benchmark for what is normal."

Tony held his tongue. That Eli David was not a normal father was an understatement, but Ziva didn't need him to rub salt into that wound. Particularly not after their discussion of prickly matters had gotten out of hand last night.

"Bet you didn't either when you were in the army," he said to her. "Didn't you once tell me about having to escape from behind enemy lines with another woman and you were both stabbed, but didn't bother to even go to the hospital before you were back on the job?"

Ziva frowned deeply. "No, I am sure that never happened."

"Really?" he checked. "You stitched each other up by candlelight."

Ziva sighed dismissively. "Tony…"

"And you were only in your underwear…" He paused as Ziva's frown turned into something more dangerous, and then swallowed nervously. "It's possible I thought this scenario up on my own."

She said something harsh in Hebrew under her breath, and Tony decided it would be in his best interests to drop it.

"I'll get onto the nursery," he said, getting back on track.

Gibbs heaved a sigh, and then got up and left the room without a word. Tony hoped that he was going on a coffee run, and that he might return with a cup for his loyal subjects. He pulled up the webpage for Rodney's Garden, and then dialed the phone number listed. It rang six times before their voicemail picked up, advising callers of the nursery's opening hours. Tony checked his watch; the nursery wouldn't be open for another 20 minutes. He hung up without leaving a message.

"So, McGee," Ziva said, conversationally. "Did you and Cassie do anything interesting last night?"

Tony wanted to kick her. She was really fixating on this, and he wondered if he shouldn't have told her. But McGee didn't pick up on why she was asking.

"Not really," McGee replied. "Dinner. Played some Modern Warfare."

"Video game?" Ziva checked.

"No, we actually conducted war games in her living room," McGee replied, deadpan. He got an irritated look from Ziva for his trouble. "Anyway, I'm more interested in what happened to Tony last night to make him so chipper."

Tony wished he had a story to share, but he didn't. "It's old fashioned delirium, McGee," Tony told him.

"I thought you were unusually tired yesterday," McGee said. "You didn't sleep?"

Tony's eyes drifted in Ziva's direction, but he pulled them back to McGee. "Not much."

"Thinking about Viv?" McGee tried.

Tony made a face at him being so far off the mark. "No. Why would I be kept awake thinking about Viv?"

"Perhaps you were thinking about the circumstances in which she left the team," Ziva suggested.

Tony looked between his two colleagues. Neither was looking at him or each other. But they had managed to coordinate their attack with precision. He could tell them the story, he supposed. It wasn't as though it was a secret. But he could have some fun pretending it was.

"Maybe you're right," he said on a sigh. "Reliving it is kind of weird. I mean, I never expected to see her again, and maybe I didn't deal with the, uh, _event_ all that well at the time."

His 'confession' was met with silence, but Tony knew it was only a matter of time before one of them broke and demanded more information. He put his money on it being Ziva.

"What was the event?" she finally asked, sighing as if she knew he was baiting her, but couldn't resist.

Tony smiled to himself but played it straight. "You know, I don't remember the sequence of events, exactly. The doctors said my memory of it should return, but…Come to think of it, I don't think it ever did." He glanced up in time to see Ziva shoot McGee a side-eye of suspicion.

"You had a head injury?" McGee asked.

Tony rubbed at the scar that was tucked beneath his chin. "Didn't seem like a big deal at the time. I only needed a few stitches."

"You got that scar when you were 17 and you fell off a fence you were trying to climb when you were drunk," Ziva stated.

Tony looked at her with genuine surprise. She was right, but he had no recollection of telling her that. "Yeah," he said at length. "I was just rubbing my chin. I wasn't trying to suggest—"

"Just tell us what happened," she cut in.

Tony gave in. "Okay," he said, and beckoned her over with his chin. She and McGee both got out of their chairs quickly and joined him at his desk. It was no surprise when Ziva encroached on his personal space to sit on the corner of his desk, while McGee leaned against the filing cabinet. "Viv only worked with us on a few cases. She was supposed to stay full time, but we were doing undercover work in Rota that went bad. Long story short, Viv blew Gibbs' cover while he was on a boat docked at a wharf. It was an accident, but a rookie mistake. Bad guys almost killed Gibbs with a grenade blast. He was more or less okay, but he was pissed off enough with Viv to make the next few weeks unpleasant. She left before she was asked to." He shrugged. "That's it."

Ziva watched him closely as she tried to determine whether he was leaving anything important out. When she accepted that he wasn't, she leaned back and looked at McGee. "The truth is a let down."

"So Gibbs wasn't badly hurt?" McGee asked.

Tony smirked. "Gibbs is The Terminator. He was blown down some stairs, but his mercury skin healed itself as he walked out of the flames. He was just…pissed."

"That explains his freeziness towards Viv yesterday," Ziva said.

"Frostiness. She screwed up, yeah," Tony said, nodding. "She was only with us for two months. Maybe not even that long. And it takes Gibbs three years minimum to form the beginnings of attachment with anyone."

"Except his wives," McGee muttered under his breath.

Ziva waved her hand dismissively. "He has not been married in ten years," she pointed out. "He is probably over his marrying phase."

"Maybe not," Tony said, and turned a smile on McGee. "Cassie's a redhead. How does he get along with her?"

McGee screwed up his face with disgust at the implication and returned to his desk. "Gross, Tony. Really gross."

Tony grinned triumphantly at Ziva for her take. But his partner was watching him with curiosity he wasn't expecting. "What?" he asked.

"Are you all right?" she asked, dropping her voice as low as she could so that McGee couldn't hear.

"Fine," he more or less whispered back. "Why?"

"You did not sleep. You have bags under your eyes," she stated. "I thought you were almost asleep when we hung up."

"I was. But I didn't get there." He shrugged it off. "Just one of those nights."

She eyed him with concern. "Are we all right?" she asked, and flicked her finger back and forth quickly between them.

The suggestion that they wouldn't be surprised him at first, until he thought a little harder about it. They'd had the prickly conversation, which Ziva had clearly not enjoyed. And then they'd spoken vaguely last night about how Gibbs might feel about them chasing happiness in places he didn't approve of. She hadn't enjoyed that conversation either, and Tony hadn't liked how sad her eyes had become during it. But he didn't know what he could say or do for her now that would make it better. Except be on her side.

"We're always all right," he told her.

Ziva snorted with disbelief. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony noticed Gibbs return to the bullpen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee followed, but Gibbs didn't pause at Tony's desk to hand over a cup as he had been hoping.

"Find something, David?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva didn't move from her spot like Gibbs obviously wanted her to. And she didn't break eye contact with her partner as she replied to him. "Waiting for someone in personnel to get back to me."

"DiNozzo?"

"Nursery wasn't open yet," he replied.

"So you're just going to sit there and look at each other?"

Ziva slid off Tony's desk and slowly slinked back to her own. "Tony was just explaining all the ways in which I am prickly," she told Gibbs. There was a tone in her voice that made it clear that the person she was annoyed with about it was Gibbs, not Tony.

For the space of a second, Gibbs looked like a deer caught in headlights. A guilty deer, at that. Then he fixed his attention on his computer screen as if he knew what he was doing with it. "Hmm," he grunted.

End of conversation.

Ziva sat behind her desk and gave Tony a subtle look of victory before she returned to her task. Tony kind of wanted to applaud her for finding a way to exploit Gibbs' regret for his hand in her bad mood last night.

"McGee?" Gibbs asked. "Any news yet?"

"Uh, yeah," McGee said. "Not sure how useful it'll be, but Lieutenant West just got back from six months in Southeast Asia, just like his wife said. They docked in a couple of places. Singapore, Phuket, Sydney. They ran some military exercises with the Australians. Otherwise, it was an entirely routine deployment."

"After his return he spent two weeks onshore at Norfolk before taking his leave," Ziva threw in. "That is all I have so far. Would you like me to talk to Mrs West and try to develop a timeline of his activities in recent days?"

Gibbs thought it over for the space of a sigh. "No. Focus on his morning until tox comes back and tells us to look at something else."

With nothing much else to do, Tony floated a time-wasting idea. "I might drive out to the nursery, boss. Show his photo around."

Gibbs swallowed some coffee and then nodded. "Take Ziva. Go talk to their neighbors afterwards and find out if anyone saw him before he collapsed."

Tony pushed his chair back and reached for his coat. "On it, boss," he said. And suddenly, his chipperness started becoming a little more genuine.

…

Rodney's Garden Nursery was the cutest place Ziva had been for a long time. Mature pines surrounded the paved parking lot and towered over the main building, a little white cottage with blue trim and galvanized roof. Potted plants lined the decked veranda, some growing up to the height of the cute little blue trimmed windows. Beyond the building was the nursery proper, and Ziva could see a mini forest of trees and shrubs that would probably never grow together naturally. Birds sang over the noise of the highway a few hundred yards away, and as she and Tony approached the steps up to the cottage a squirrel darted across their path and ran up a tree.

"Is there deer in this area?" she asked Tony.

He took his eyes off the squirrel to look at her. "Hm?"

"Deer?"

He looked around. "Where?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, are there deer in this area?"

"Oh." He thought for half a second. "Sure. They're all over this part of the country."

"I have never seen one," she said, and led him up the steps to the cottage.

"You want to go hunting?"

She spun on him, appalled. "Tony, no!" she cried. "I just want to see one."

"Go for a hike, Bambi," he said. "They're all around."

She opened the door to the cottage and they were hit by a wall of welcome heat. Inside were rows and rows of pot plants, seedlings and bags of seeds. The walls were covered by cutesy paintings and carvings of forest animals and landscapes. The smell of potting mix and fertilizer was strong.

"Morning, folks."

They turned to see a man in his 30s walking through the cottage with a potted philodendron in his arms. He was in dirty blue pants, black gumboots and a black spray jacket with the Rodney's logo on the breast.

"Morning," Tony returned. "Are you Rodney?"

The man smiled and shook his head as he rested the plant on the counter beside the cash register. "No, that's my dad. But he's not here. I can promise you he's not the only one who can advise you on your gardening needs, though. What are you two looking for?"

"Information," Ziva said, and held up her badge. "We are agents David and DiNozzo from NCIS."

"Oh. I'm Sonny," he said, and held out his dirty hand before looking at it and quickly pulling it back. "Sorry. No good for polite company."

"Are you here every day?" Tony asked him.

Sonny nodded. "Yeah. From opening to closing, six days a week."

"So you were here yesterday?"

"You bet."

Tony pulled a photo of Tom West out of his pocket and held it up. "Does this man look familiar to you?"

Sonny nodded. "Sure, that's Tom," he said, and then looked worried. "Is he in some kind of trouble?"

Ziva didn't answer that immediately. "Did you see him yesterday?"

"Yes," he said carefully, looking between them now with caution. "He came in…I'm not sure when. In the morning. Maybe ten or eleven."

"Did he purchase anything?"

Sonny shook his head. "No. He was looking at planting some vegetables. Pumpkin, carrots, tomatoes. I told him it wasn't the right time for pumpkins and tomatoes. You should do those in the spring."

Ziva looked around for security cameras as she asked, "Did he come in with anyone? Or leave with anyone?"

"No, he was alone," Sonny said. "He usually came in alone. Sometimes brought his kids in the spring when all the blooms are out. And we've got a pond out back that's nice in the summer. Lots of ducks come by."

"Deer?" Ziva asked.

"Uh…sometimes. It's pretty rare, though. They're scared off real easy around here."

Tony lifted his eyebrow at her and she shrugged in response.

"Do you think we'd be able to get a copy of your security tapes for yesterday morning?" Tony asked. "We'd like to confirm Mr West's movements."

"Is he in trouble?" Sonny asked again.

Tony and Ziva shared a look, and she gave him a small nod. She would handle this one.

"Unfortunately Mr West passed away yesterday," she said as gently as she could.

Sonny blinked at her and then sighed hard and dropped his shoulders. "That's a real shame," he said. "A real shame. He was a nice guy."

"Did you know him well?" Ziva asked.

"No," Sonny said. "He came in a couple times a year. We talked a bit about his garden, but I didn't know anything about him. Just that he was married and had kids. And that he was in the Navy."

"How was his mood yesterday?" Tony asked.

Sonny's eyes went to the ceiling as he thought about it. "I don't know. Normal, I guess. He was nice as ever."

Ziva nodded and smiled in thanks. "Could we please get those tapes?"

"Uh, can I send them to you?" Sonny asked. "It's just they're digital, and I don't know how to make copies. Barney, who works in the afternoons? He'll know."

"Or we could look at them here," Tony said. "If you don't mind?"

"Sure, sure," Sonny said, and wiped his hands on his thighs. "Come on back to the office."

Tony and Ziva followed him past a row of fresh cut flowers to a room at the back of the cottage. There were two long desks jammed against two walls, and they were both overflowing with folders and papers. There was a safe on the floor beneath one, and a row of shelves that were overflowing with gardening paraphernalia. There were two computers in the room, and Sonny went for the one that was tucked beneath a shelf full of rolls of cash register receipt paper. He hit a key on the keyboard and the screen came to life, showing a four-split of the parking lot, front of counter, behind the counter and the door to the room they were in. Sonny bent over to slowly type a few commands into the keyboard, and a finder window full of files appeared.

"Okay, yesterday morning," he said to himself, and scrolled slowly through the files until he found the right one. He pulled it up and then skipped through a few hours of infrared footage before daylight hit and people started moving around. He switched to play mode when the time code got to 10am.

"I'm sorry, I can't remember when exactly he came in," Sonny said, and stood up straight again. He winced and pulled his torso slightly to one side to stretch his back. "You're welcome to have a look."

He stepped out of the way, and Ziva took his place. "We will find him. Thank you."

"I should go back out front," Sonny said.

Tony nodded and sent him on his way with a smile. "Thanks. We won't take long."

Sonny backed out of the room, and then closed the door behind him. Tony rolled the single chair in the room over to the desk and sat heavily in it. It dropped about two inches more than he was expecting.

"I didn't know you had such a thing for deer, dear," he said.

Ziva smirked as she found the button to make the vision go at double speed. "I do not," she told him. "It just occurred to me that I have never seen one."

"Yeah, well it's probably still rutting season," Tony drawled. "So you probably don't want to see them right now."

She smiled wider. "I am familiar with rutting, Tony. I would not be offended."

"Did you just make a comment about my performance? Because I like to think I have more finesse than that."

She shot a bemused look at him over her shoulder, and returned to the task at hand. Viv had said that Tom called her at 10am, and was on his way to the nursery. It was a 20-minute drive between the two locations, so Ziva slowed the tape to normal speed from 10.20am.

"Did you know that you cannot plant pumpkins in November?" she asked Tony.

"I was not aware of that."

"You learn a lot in this job."

He bumped the back of her thigh with his knee. "You going to become a pumpkin farmer, Bambi?"

"I might leave it for the experts," she said, and then aimed a stern look at him. "And that name had better not stick."

Tony gave her a wide DiNozzo smile, and she found herself torn between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him. To be fair, she often found herself torn between the two when it came to him. She turned back to the screen before she could do either.

At 10.39, Tom West walked through the front door of the nursery's cottage, and Tony and Ziva both leaned forward to watch him. The footage was in black and white, but he appeared to be wearing the same clothes that he had died in.

"He looks to be alone," she said, trying to ignore the subtle scent of her partner as he drew closer to her.

Tony grunted in agreement, and they watched him wave to Sonny as he headed for the packets of seeds. Sonny came over and the two of them talked for a few minutes, pulling out and returning packet after packet of seeds. While they were talking, an older woman with shoulder-length curly grey hair came in. Sonny acknowledged her, but she didn't interact with him or Tom until she gathered a bunch of fresh cut flowers and brought it to the counter. As Sonny served her, Tom headed off again without purchasing anything. He waved to Sonny, and Tony and Ziva watched the view of the parking lot as he walked out of the cottage, got into his car and drove away. No one seemed to be in the car with him, and no one else pulled out to follow him. He was completely alone.

"And that's that," Tony said.

Ziva stood up straight and pulled the same move Sonny had to stretch her back. "Okay. Let's ask him to send us a copy when he can, and then go and interview Tom and Viv's neighbors."

…

"Tom West was a well-dressed guy," Abby decided.

McGee cast his eyes over the clothes that they had laid out on one of the workbenches in Abby's lab. He saw dark blue jeans, a light blue shirt and a fitted grey knit sweater. The outfit wasn't anything special, but the labels were. They were all designer threads.

"Not usually the kind of stuff you see someone on a Navy salary wear," he said.

Abby slid on her yellow goggles. "Maybe he just gets sick of his Navy uniform," she said. "So when he's out of it, he wants to look sharp."

McGee eyed the clothes again. "It's not that sharp," he argued. "I mean, it's fine. But it's no different to anything Tony'd wear on the weekend."

Abby pivoted on her toe and put her hand on her hip as her head fell to the side. She looked at him with a touch of disappointment that rivaled the looks the nuns used to hand out in elementary school. Not that McGee was ever on the receiving end of one.

"Don't look at me like that," he implored. "I'm not being mean. I'm just saying that I don't think 'sharp' is the right adjective."

Abby handed him a pair of yellow goggles. "Suit up, McGee."

He put on the goggles and Abby picked up the remote that would turn off the lights in the room. Then she picked up the handheld light source and started waving it over Tom West's clothes.

"Speaking of Tony," McGee said. "And Ziva. Do you think they've been kind of weird lately?"

Abby cocked her head towards him and peeked around a black pigtail to meet his gaze. "Weird for Tony and Ziva or weird for everyone else?"

"For Tony and Ziva."

Abby shook her head. "No, but I haven't seen much of either of them lately."

McGee leaned against the workbench, and his weight shifted it an inch out of place. He quickly stood up straight again.

"McGee!"

"Sorry," he said, and pulled the bench back into place. "Thought it was fixed."

Abby leaned over again and started on Tom's sweater.

"There's a lot more gazing than normal," he told her.

"What?"

"Tony and Ziva," he reminded her. "They're gazing at each other a lot."

"Well, they're both pretty," Abby said. "If I were them, I'd be gazing too."

"I think it's going beyond gazing."

Abby straightened her spine and turned to face him again. She pointed the light at him accusingly. "Are you saying you _know_ it's going beyond gazing?" she asked. "Or are you assuming and gossiping?"

Why did she always make him feel like a naughty boy? "Assuming and gossiping," he admitted.

"Well, we've been assuming for eight years, McGee!" Abby exclaimed, waving her arms and the light around wildly. "What's so different about this latest outbreak of gazing that makes you think something's going on?"

"I don't know!" he said, not willing to concede his ground just yet. "Intuition. I live more than half my life with them. Something's different. And Cassie said she thinks they're spending a lot of nights at each others apartments."

Abby stilled and stared at him for a moment with pursed lips, then slowly turned and resumed her task. "I don't think Ziva would confide in Cassie that her and Tony are having very special agent time together before she tells us," she said, and although he knew she was trying to use her inside voice, it came out stressed and loud.

A year ago, McGee would have agreed. But he wasn't so sure anymore. "Probably," he started with. "But you know Ziva and Cassie have gotten pretty close."

"Good for Ziva and Cassie," Abby muttered.

McGee smiled. "It is good," he agreed, unaware that he was _completely_ misreading Abby's mood. "They really get along. Cassie's told me how hard it's been for her to find women she can be friends with."

"Mhmm," Abby grunted. "I found blood. Can I have the marker?"

McGee handed over the felt tip pen and Abby drew a circle around the small dot of blood on the shoulder of Tom's sweater. Then she capped the pen and kept looking. After a minute of silence she cleared her throat.

"So. How are things going between you?" she asked him.

McGee thought of Cassie and a smile jumped to his face while a ball of warmth formed in his chest. He couldn't wait to ask her to move in with him, but he wouldn't tell Abby that just yet. "Good," he said with a grin. "Really good. I'm happy."

Abby peeked at him again around a pigtail and gave him what looked like a genuine, albeit tight-lipped smile. "Good," she said softly. "I'm glad you're happy."

McGee grinned, but he couldn't help feeling like things had turned a little awkward.

Abby moved on to Tom's jeans, and she processed them in silence. She checked every inch of them, front and back, but found nothing else that needed to be circled. She turned the lab lights on, and they both took off their goggles.

"Nothing but the single spot of blood on the sweater," she said. "I'll do a test and confirm it's Tom West's."

"I'll tell Gibbs," he said, and headed for the door. "Thanks, Abby."

He heard her reply as he walked into the hallway. "Yeah. Anytime, McGee."

…

Tony and Ziva turned away empty handed from the third door in the Wests' street, and started back down the driveway.

"So much for lucky number three," Tony said.

"Only two more to go," Ziva told him, and dug her hands deep into her coat pockets. "Then we can go back and tells Gibbs that we haven't found anything."

"Maybe McGee and Abby had more luck," Tony said hopefully.

Ziva shook her head to liberate her face from the hair the wind had just blown into it. "Perhaps we could help McGee."

"With what? Helping Abby?" He shook his head. "If McGee can't help her I don't see how you and me are going to do any better. No offence to you and me, but—"

"No, with Gibbs," Ziva said. They made it to the end of the driveway and started walking up the street to the next house. "When he panics quietly about McGee moving in with Cassie and starting a family."

Tony caught up to her train of thought, which was part of their conversation from last night. He wasn't opposed to making McGee's life easier (not that he would make that known), but he wasn't convinced it was his and Ziva's responsibility. "How do we do that?"

Ziva bumped against him when she looked up and veered off the straight line she was walking. "Perhaps we could work longer hours on his behalf."

"What? No!" Tony cried. He couldn't believe she'd suggested such a thing. "We already work enough hours, Ziva."

"I am not doing anything with my downtime," she said.

"Then you can work longer hours for me, too."

"What are you doing besides watching unicorn pornography?" she challenged.

"Meditating to find inner peace," he said grumpily.

"Are you getting close?"

"I expect it'll hit me any day now." He stopped and turned to look at her, and Ziva followed his lead. "Why are you turning _your_ energy to _McGee's_ happiness?"

Her eyes flicked over his face, and he knew she was going to hold something back. "He deserves it," she said simply. It was a noble answer, but Tony definitely didn't buy it was the real reason.

"So do you," he pointed out, essentially repeating what they'd been talking about last night, but without the third person buffer. "So do I. So do all of us."

She swayed closer, but he didn't know if it was because of the wind or some other need to be near. "But McGee deserves it more for putting up with everything that he does."

"You know _I'm_ the one who puts up with being physically assaulted every week, right?" he checked.

Ziva smiled up at him, all warm eyes and pink lips and cheeks, and he had to consciously pull his head back so that he wouldn't just lean in and kiss her. "You are a saint," Ziva teased, and then started walking again.

Tony caught up after a step or two and tugged her sleeve. "You know, Ziva, Madonna was right about something."

"That we are living in a material world?"

"That too," he acknowledged. "But she also said that happiness lies in our own hands."

She sighed and shook her head as they walked up the next driveway, but she seemed to have listened to him. "So, you think I should accept what I have and be happy with it?"

"No, I mean that you have to find or make your own happiness."

She shot him a curious look, and he couldn't exactly blame her. He wasn't known for his new age musings. "Did you come to this conclusion while meditating?"

He stopped walking again and leaned in to her, bravely holding her gaze as he tried to get the message across. "I'm saying, Ziva, that you're not going to be happy until you work out what you want. Start there. With you, before McGee."

He watched her struggle with that, but she didn't look away and dismiss it. Her eyes flicked to his mouth and then back up to his eyes, and then she swallowed and looked suddenly nervous.

"Do you know what you want, Tony?" she asked softly.

It was a good question. One she deserved an answer to. But he wasn't sure he could give her one just yet. "I'm getting closer," he settled on.

She nodded, and after another second of staring at each other she cocked her head towards the house. "We should finish this."

He followed her up to the door, and a woman in a blue tracksuit answered Ziva's knock on her door.

"Hello?"

Ziva and Tony held up their badges in tandem.

"Good morning," Ziva said to her. "We are with the Naval Criminal Investigative Services."

The woman touched her hand to her chest. "Oh, are you here about Tom?"

"Yes, Mrs…?" Ziva fished.

"Baxter," she said. "Jean Baxter."

"Mrs Baxter," Ziva repeated, and gave her a kind smile. "We are trying to ascertain whether anyone saw Mr West yesterday, or anything strange in the neighborhood."

Jean nodded. "Yes, I saw him yesterday. It would have been about 11.30."

"You did?" Tony asked, perking up a bit. "Did you talk to him?"

"No. I was just going out as he was coming in. We waved as we passed each other."

"On the street?" Ziva asked.

"He was walking between his car and the house," Jean said.

"Was he with anyone?"

Jean shook her head. "No. He was alone."

"Was there anything about him that you remember?" Tony pressed. "Did he look upset or was he talking on his phone or carrying bags? Anything like that?"

Jean's brow furrowed before opening right up. "He was carrying a coffee. A take out cup."

"I do not suppose you were close enough to see which store it was from?" Ziva asked hopefully. But Jean shook her head.

"No. Definitely not. It was a white paper cup." She thought for a moment. "Like I said, I didn't talk to him. But he seemed like his usual friendly self. He was smiling. Waving. Regular Tom."

"Did you pass anyone else on your way out?" Tony asked. "Anyone you didn't recognize?"

"Probably," Jean said. "But no one who stood out, I'm afraid."

"And have you been aware of any disturbances at the Wests' home in the last year or so?" Ziva asked.

Jean looked surprised by the question. "No, of course not," she said. "They were a lovely family. Tom's Navy, as you know. And Viv, his wife, she's a police officer. Never heard a peep from them. Not even with two little ones. They're good neighbors to have."

Ziva handed over her card. "Thank you for your time," she said. "If you think of anything else, please get in touch."

Jean nodded and then stepped back into her house and closed the door. Tony and Ziva walked back down the driveway and looked around the quiet, well looked after street.

"Take out coffee," Tony repeated solemnly. "The smoking gun."

Ziva looked at him with her eyebrows raised, but her expression turned to mild amusement when she realized that he, just like her, had absolutely no idea about what that had to do with anything.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed or favorited or followed. I will get around to responding to you, I promise.**


	4. Chapter 4

Tony hefted his backpack over his shoulder and balanced his phone and cup of coffee in one hand as he locked his car with the other. Depending on what side of the couch Gibbs had gotten off that morning, it was possible Tony would regret making the stop to pick up breakfast on his way to work. But his kitchen was bare (as usual) and he'd fallen asleep in front of the TV last night before he'd had a chance to go get some dinner. He'd woken up starving, and if he was going to get through the day without strangling his co-workers, he knew he would have to grab a quick bagel to go from the bakery down the street. It had ended up taking him ten minutes because the line had been ridiculously long, and _everyone_ had ordered a coffee as well. But his belly was now, well, not full. But less empty. And it was worth being tardy for.

He walked across the parking garage to the elevator, and while he waited for it to arrive he tried to check his personal email. The parking garage at NCIS was a mystical place. Sometimes, you got five bars of reception. Sometimes you got none. Sometimes, if you got none and moved an inch to the right, you got two or three bars. This morning, he got none. No matter how much he swayed around.

He put his phone in his pocket as the elevator arrived and he got in. He hit the button for the third floor, and as the doors were about to close he heard running footsteps coming towards him. Tony threw his arm out in between the doors to make them open again, and in the process almost smacked Ziva in the face. She jerked and dodged as he snatched his arm back, and then they both stood still and stared at each other while they recovered and assured themselves no violent contact had been made. The doors started to close again, and this time Ziva stepped between them onto the lift.

"Morning," Tony said casually as they finally started to rise.

"Good morning."

"Sorry about almost punching you in the face, there."

"No problem." She turned towards him slightly to look him up and down. "Did you sleep better last night?"

Tony swallowed a sip of coffee as he nodded. "Passed out at about eight. Didn't wake up until five. You?"

"I got a few hours."

He returned her appraising look. "Can't turn off your thoughts?"

"Yes," she lied.

He pointed at her with his coffee. "Maybe _you_ need to meditate."

Ziva shifted her weight to her other foot. "I am not good at being still when it is not required of me."

The elevator stopped on their floor, and Tony smiled to himself as they walked out. That was an understatement. "Then maybe you should look into sleeping pills."

She frowned at him as though he should know better than to suggest it. "I am worse at being unconscious and potentially vulnerable."

Tony was going to reply. But then Abby came charging at them from the other end of the bullpen, chains jangling and boots thumping, and all of his thoughts went out of his head.

"Where have you been?" she demanded to know. It was just past eight and she was already in a state.

"Driving in," Tony said carefully, and began to wonder if her wasn't the last one to arrive after all.

"Are you all right?" Ziva asked her. She shared a bewildered look with Tony.

Abby looked between them and some of the intensity seemed to drain from her. "Did you guys come in together?" she asked, and there was something in her voice that made Tony think that she'd be upset if he said they had. Had she needed a lift in or something?

"No, we met in the elevator," he told her. "What's wrong?"

Her intensity came back full force, and she gestured wildly at the bullpen behind them. "Where is everyone? Everyone's usually here by now!" She stopped and looked at Tony. "Well, you're not always here. Why are you here when everyone else isn't?"

"Because it's upside down day," he told her, deadpan, as if it was really a thing that they'd all agreed to.

"Tony," Ziva admonished gently. "I am sure they will be here in a moment," she said to Abby.

On cue, McGee walked into the bullpen from the opposite end, Cassie in tow. They both looked sunny and cheery, and Tony rolled his eyes to himself. Morning sex was only okay if Tony was the one having it. McGee could jump in the lake.

"See?" Ziva continued. "McGee is here. Good morning, McGee and Cassie."

"Morning!" McGee greeted enthusiastically.

"Ugh," Abby muttered to herself, just loud enough for Tony to hear. He wanted to hug her in solidarity. Happy morning sex people were the worst.

He and Ziva split off to their desks as McGee unlocked his desk drawer and retrieved a USB stick. He handed it over to Cassie, who thanked him and then approached Ziva.

"Morning, all," she said, looking between Ziva, Abby and Tony.

"Cassandra," Tony greeted.

Abby gave her a half smile and a wilted wave.

"Are you free this weekend?" Cassie asked Ziva. "Because I called the track and they've got an opening we could take."

Tony looked over at them in interest, wondering what they had planned. But Ziva's frown suggested she didn't know what they had planned either.

"What track?"

"Motorbike racing!" Cassie said obviously. "Remember? We were talking the other day—"

Tony's interest piqued. "You're going racing? Me and Ziva did that. It was awesome."

"When did you do that?" Abby asked.

"For my birthday," he told her. "They've got this course that's really hilly and you go really fast—"

Cassie pointed at him as he made her argument for her. "Right! We could do that this weekend. Up and down hills, really fast. Are you free?"

"It depends on this case," Ziva said. "Tentative yes."

"Sounds fun," Abby said flatly.

"Would you like to come?" Cassie offered.

"No," Abby replied, then turned to Tony, as if the verbal shut down wasn't enough. "Aren't you worried that Gibbs isn't here?" she demanded.

Tony watched Cassie share a telling look with Ziva and then quietly leave the room before refocusing on Abby. "Uh, no. I'm sure he's on his way. Or he's just gone for a coffee." He eyed her with borderline concern. She was being proper weird, not just Abby weird. He adopted his big brother tone. "Tell me what's up."

Abby gave him the wide-eyed worried look that usually meant that things were bad, but only in her head. "It's just…none of you were here when you were supposed to be," she said. "I worry when I don't know where you are or what's going on."

"We're all fine," he assured her. "Nothing to worry about."

Abby nodded solemnly, but then her eyes drifted above his desk and solemn turned to animation. "GIBBS!" she yelled, and went running around the side of Tony's desk. Tony looked at Ziva and raised his eyebrows, asking if she had any idea what was going on. Ziva shook her head. He turned to McGee with the same expression, but McGee just shrugged and made a face that said he agreed she was being especially weird.

Behind him, Tony heard Gibbs let out an _'oof!'_ which he assumed meant that Abby had crash tackled him.

"Morning, Abs," Gibbs said.

"I was worried about you, Gibbs," Abby told him. "You weren't where you were supposed to be."

"Been here for an hour," he told her, and the two of them rejoined the team.

"Well, good. Because I have news," she said, swapping her weird intensity for her regular intensity. "Tom West's tox screen came back."

"And?"

"He had, like, a metric buttload of amphetamines in his system," she said, spreading her arms out like she was drawing a line and refusing any doubt. "Plus he was taking SNRIs."

"What's that?" Gibbs asked.

"Antidepressants," Abby translated.

"Metric buttload?" Tony repeated.

Abby shrugged. "Totally scientific measurement."

"Depression could be the reason he took leave," Ziva said.

"I talked to Ducky," Abby said "And he said that combining amphetamines with SNRIs, especially when the dose of amphetamines was as high as what Tom West took, it can cause heart failure."

"What kind of amphetamine was it?" Tony asked.

"I'm still working on that."

"Okay. So, either Viv was lying to us, or she had no idea her husband was depressed and taking speed," Tony said, then had another thought. "You know, that could explain why his bathroom was so wet. If he had an overdose he would have been completely dehydrated and going out of his mind. He would've been thirsty as hell."

"It's also possible he was trying to self medicate with the amphetamines," McGee said. "Could've overdosed by accident."

"It is an unusual way to suicide," Ziva threw in. She looked at Tony. "It is not possible to say for sure, but on the video we saw of him in the plant nursery he did not appear to be under the influence of drugs."

Tony shook his head, agreeing with her.

Gibbs stepped forward, cutting off the speculation. "Okay. Ziva, call Viv and get her in here. We need to discuss this with her."

"On it," Ziva said, and picked up the phone.

"DiNozzo, are we still on to talk to his commander on the MacAllister this morning?"

"Scheduled for 1100 in MTAC," Tony confirmed.

Gibbs nodded. "Abs, keep working on finding out what kind of drug it was. Then maybe we'll be able to work out where he got it."

…

Viv West looked like she hadn't slept since the last time Ziva had seen her. To be fair, she probably hadn't. But she had pulled herself together to face this interview. Her clothes were neat, if not in the same casual style she'd worn when they first met. Her red curls had been pulled back in a tidy ponytail. And although her eyes were puffy, Ziva doubted that any more tears would fall while she was in the company of other people.

She sat at one end of the conference room table with her hands clasped in front of her and a glass of water within reach. She gave Ziva a polite smile when she and Gibbs entered the room, but her eyes quickly moved on to Gibbs, the one she assumed would be doing the talking and interviewing. Gibbs took a seat at the table, leaving one seat empty between them, and gave her the same detached smile that he had at the crime scene. As he flipped open his notepad, Ziva wondered to herself how he would handle this. Viv West wasn't their usual grieving widow. She was a cop—one with a history with Gibbs—and Ziva didn't get the impression that she wanted them to go easy on her with the details. But rightly or wrongly, Gibbs had a tendency to soften things for spouses, especially women. And he definitely had a tendency to hold information back when they weren't yet sure that the spouse was in the clear.

"Thank you for coming in, Viv," Gibbs started.

Viv nodded impatiently and leaned forward towards him. "So, where are you at?"

"Ducky's completed his autopsy, and Abby's been doing some tox screens on Tom's blood samples," Gibbs told her. "It looks like the official cause of death is going to be sudden cardiac death, most likely brought on by a combination of drugs in his system."

Viv frowned deeply as she studied him silently for a few seconds. Then, she very calmly asked, "What drugs?"

"Did you know he was taking antidepressants?" Gibbs asked carefully.

Viv's spine straightened, and Ziva got the feeling she was about to defend her husband. "Yes, I knew. He had been taking them for a few months. Seven, eight, maybe. They were prescribed by a private physician."

"He did not want the Navy to know he was taking them?" Ziva clarified.

"It would have been frowned upon," Viv told her. "He wanted to keep it quiet."

"Why was he taking them?" Gibbs asked.

Viv shook her head as she thought about it. "There was no trauma," she told them. "No single event or series of events that he was trying to get over. He was just…sad. And he had been for a few years. Since around the time Zoe was born. We'd talked about it, and he finally decided that he would do something about it."

"Was he in therapy?" Ziva asked.

"No. He went to see a counselor a few times when he started taking the drugs, but he didn't keep up with it." She looked at Ziva knowingly. "I wanted him to keep going, but men aren't good at admitting they need help or talking about how they feel. You know."

Ziva nodded politely, and wondered again where Viv had gotten the impression that Ziva was a wife and mother who knew all about the joys and irritations those roles brought to life.

"We reached a compromise where he wouldn't have to go to his counselor every week as long as he kept taking the medication. But he didn't have access while he was on the MacAllister."

Gibbs leaned forward and seemed to try to soften his tone. "Did it cause problems between you?"

"Our marriage was fine," she told him, cutting to the chase. "We had ups and downs like everyone does, and yes, dealing with his low mood was very difficult at times. But we were fine."

"Did his depression contribute to his need for some time off?" Ziva asked.

Viv turned her head to look at Ziva sitting on the other side of her. "Yes. He said he just needed some time to reset."

"So the medication wasn't working for him?" Gibbs asked.

Viv swung her head back around to look at him. "He'd been at sea for a few months, so it's hard for me to say for sure. But he certainly seemed better to me in the last few weeks while he was home. He just wanted some time off to catch his breath." She paused and took a moment to compose herself before she got upset. "I don't understand how the antidepressants could have caused a heart attack in a healthy man, Gibbs. And out of the blue. He'd been taking those pills for months."

Gibbs glanced Ziva's way before letting Viv in on the other side of the pill puzzle. "Abby's tox screen found a large dose of amphetamines in his system. Combined with the type of antidepressant Tom was taking, it could have caused him to suffer heart failure."

Viv stared at him for a full five seconds before angrily declaring, "You have got to be kidding."

"We ran his blood—"

"Tom was _not_ taking amphetamines," she cut in. "No way in hell. He has never been the kind of man to get involved in any of that crap, Gibbs. I doubt it even crossed his mind. He was a family man, and he took his service to this country seriously. And he was smart. He would have known exactly what he had to lose if he was caught with it."

"His career," Gibbs stated.

"Without a doubt."

"What about you and the kids?"

Viv narrowed her eyes, but then took another moment to breathe and compose herself. "I don't know," she said honestly. "But he is…_was_ my husband. The love of my life. And I wouldn't have just cut him out of it like that." She clicked her fingers.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Ziva tried not to squirm in her seat. She doubted that Viv would be inclined to be terribly cooperative with Gibbs after their last exchange, but they still needed her onside. She closed her notebook and tried to make nice.

"Viv, why don't we go for a walk and get some coffee?" she suggested.

Viv pushed her chair back and got to her feet. "Yes, let's do that. I suddenly need the fresh air."

…

"You know what the extra 'B' in Gibbs is for, right?" Viv said as she and Ziva walked across the lawns in front of the NCIS building. "Bastard."

Ziva smiled wryly. She had heard that before, and she didn't necessarily disagree. Most of the time, she thought of Gibbs as a father figure and had great affection and respect for him. The rest of the time, well, he was a bastard.

"I can't believe DiNozzo's still working with him," Viv went on. "I mean, bless him, he's not the brightest guy around. But he's got good instincts and he brought this reputation of being some kind of wunderkind with him when he arrived. I can't believe he hasn't moved on by now and left someone else to deal with Gibbs' issues."

Ziva pursed her lips. There was so much in that that she wanted to address, but she didn't see where it would get her. Viv didn't seem to have painted her with the same brush she had for Gibbs and Tony, so it was probably a good idea to stay in her good graces while they were trying to work out what happened to her husband.

Viv seemed to realize that she had stuck her foot in it, and she sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Agent David. That's not fair. I just needed to blow off some steam."

"That is understandable," Ziva said.

"I just feel like Gibbs is holding grudges for things that happened ten years ago," she went on, but far more calmly this time.

"Viv, I was not here when you were," Ziva started. "I do not know what Gibbs was like then. But the agent I know is only interested in finding the truth."

Viv looked at her out of the corner of her eye and nodded. "I'm counting on it."

They paused to let an agency issue sedan streak by and then crossed the street, avoiding the puddles of melting snow from the night before. Ziva led her down the path between the memorial garden for the victims of the Harper Dearing bombing last summer and a disused administration building down to the coffee cart that was Tony's favorite.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Viv asked, not quite meeting Ziva's eyes.

"Tony did," Ziva told her. "Briefly."

Viv crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not proud," she said. "But it made me better at my job. I've become a pretty good detective. And there is no doubt in my mind that Tom was not using amphetamines. I would have known. You can't be that close to someone and not know that they're keeping a secret, right?"

Ziva nodded her understanding, even if she did not agree entirely. But Viv continued on without paying any attention.

"I don't know how they got into his system, but I do know that Tom didn't willingly take them. And if you don't prove it, I will."

It sounded like a threat to Ziva, and she made a mental note to mention it to Tony later. But she didn't think it would come to Viv making good on her word. Ziva believed her when she said that Tom wasn't the kind of person to take party drugs. And she doubted that even if he did take them on purpose, that he would do it in the morning when he knew his wife was coming home to see him for lunch. Something else was definitely at play here.

"We will find out what happened, Viv," she assured her.

They got to the front of the line and placed their orders, and then took their steaming cups over to a nearby bench.

"How are your children coping?" Ziva asked gently. "Jack and Zoe?"

Viv stared at the ground for a full five seconds before taking a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting it out again. Ziva's heart ached for her. "Inconsolable," she said. "Zoe doesn't really understand. She asked for him this morning. I think she thinks he went back out to sea. Jack's heartbroken. Tom was his hero."

Ziva watched her as she struggled to keep it together. The agony of loss was set in every line in her face. Unless she was the greatest actor the world had ever seen, it was clear that Viv had nothing to do with her husband's death.

"He was my hero, too," she added softly.

The statement hit Ziva in the chest, but she chose not to say anything. She just listened quietly and let Viv talk out her thoughts.

"We met in my final week at NCIS, actually," she said. "And he came along at just the right time. I was feeling so terrible about myself. I didn't know what I was doing in my career. I'd lost contact with a lot of my friends, because they were all moving on with life and I was stuck on the singles table at all of their weddings. I just felt really lost. And then Tom came along. I met him at one of those horrible weddings. He made me laugh. He made me relax and stop worrying about whether I was doing everything right. He made me have fun. Before I knew it, he'd become my best friend. Then he went to sea for six months and I started crying every time I thought about him."

Ziva smiled with empathy. She couldn't help putting herself in Viv's shoes. She remembered a time when her best friend had been sent out to sea for a few months, while she'd been sent to the other side of the world. She remembered trying to contact him and hearing nothing back, and remembered allowing herself to dissolve into tears exactly one time to purge the ache within her. All over a man who, at the time, she couldn't admit to loving.

"I never thought that I'd find anyone for me," Viv told her. "Not me. I'm too independent. I didn't love myself enough. I spent most of my time working, and to be honest, I lost contact with a lot of my friends because I couldn't be bothered making time for them. I didn't feel like anyone understood me. But then Tom came along and he made me want to change. I don't know what would have become of me if I didn't meet him. And I don't know what'll become of me now."

It was all cutting too close to the bone for Ziva, and she was beginning to feel a strong urge to go and find her partner and hug him tightly. So she was pleased for the chance to speak up and break up her thoughts.

"It will not be easy without him," Ziva said. "You will not find anyone who would tell you otherwise. But you have your children together. You have him in them. And you have him in the woman you are today."

Viv absorbed that, and then looked at Ziva with fear in her eyes that Ziva had seen time and time again. "I know it should be, Agent David. But right now I just can't see how that will ever be enough."

…

Gibbs was already in MTAC when Tony arrived. He was sitting in the front row with a coffee in his hand and watching satellite images on the main screen, and he barely turned his head when Tony sat down next to him.

"How did Viv take the news?" he asked, keeping his voice down so as not to disrupt the other people in the room.

"Knew about the antidepressants," Gibbs replied. "Rejected the amphetamines."

"How long had he been depressed?"

"Years."

Tony lifted his eyebrows, but Gibbs wasn't looking at him. And even if he was, Tony didn't get the impression he wanted to discuss it in more detail right now. "Believe her?"

That bought him a second of eye contact. "Ziva's taken her for coffee."

Tony sat back in his seat as he considered what Gibbs was saying. Viv was more likely to be open and honest with Ziva instead of her former co-workers. Considering the circumstances that had led to Viv leaving the team, Tony thought Gibbs might be right about that.

"What's going on with Abby?"

The question was so far out of left field that it took Tony a little while to work out that Gibbs was aiming the question at him. "What?"

Gibbs shot him an annoyed side eye. "Abby. She told you what's up with her?"

Tony thought back over the last week of interactions with the emotional Goth. It was only this morning that she'd been acting out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell. But he didn't know what was behind it. "No. You want me to—"

"Nope."

"Agent Gibbs?"

The two of them looked over at the MTAC operator. Solis, Tony thought her name was.

"Agent Geasley is on the line for you."

Gibbs nodded and he and Tony stood up to receive the call. A moment later Bob Geasley, Agent Afloat on the USS MacAllister, appeared on the screen against the backdrop of the MacAllister's communications centre. He was about five years younger than Tony, about the same height but thicker with athletic muscle he'd somehow managed to maintain since college. In the face, he looked uncomfortably too similar to Damon Werth for Tony's liking. But he was far more relaxed and far less intense.

"Gibbs, DiNozzo," he greeted, with an easy nod.

"Morning, Bob," Gibbs returned. "How's the sea air treating you?"

Geasley smirked and rolled his eyes, then checked over his shoulder for witnesses before he replied. "It's ravaging my skin," he joked, and looked at Tony. "Anytime you want to trade, DiNozzo, just let me know. I know you were a fan—"

"Pass," Tony cut in. "My sea legs aren't what they used to be. But thanks for the offer."

"Oh well. Just know that the offer's always there."

Tony shook his head.

"So, you want to talk about Lieutenant Tom West?" Geasley asked, moving things along.

Gibbs nodded. "He was found dead two days ago at his home."

"That's sad," Geasley said. "I didn't know the guy personally, but he had a good rep on the ship."

"So you never had any run-ins with him?" Tony checked. "One way or another."

Geasley shook his head. "Nope. I asked around and it sounds like he was as straight and narrow as they come. I never got any complaints about him. Never had to deal with any of the guys under him."

"Did he make any trips to sick bay on your last deployment?" Gibbs asked.

Geasley frowned, and his eyes travelled across the panels in front of him as if they'd hold the answer. But he shook his head. "Sorry, don't know. I'll have to check on that and get back to you."

"Did you know anything about why he took leave?" Tony asked.

Geasley shook his head again. "If there was a specific reason, it hadn't filtered through to me." He paused and looked between them. "What were the circumstances of his death?" he asked. "I thought they were pretty cut and dry."

"Where'd you hear that?" Gibbs asked.

"Scuttlebutt, I guess. News travels fast."

Gibbs thought it over and glanced at Tony. Tony knew he had an idea, but he couldn't work out from Gibbs' poker face what it might be.

"You reckon you could organize some interviews for us?" he asked Geasley. "Anyone he worked with regularly."

"I guess," Geasley said at length. "Might take a few days, but—"

"I'll send DiNozzo and David out on a helo tonight," Gibbs broke in. "You're anchored off the coast right now. They can do the interviews face-to-face. It'll be faster."

Tony felt his chest grow tight. "Thanks, boss," he muttered. He just _loved_ being sent out to sea.

Geasley looked about as pleased with the plan as Tony felt. "Gibbs, come on. At least let me clear it with the Captain."

"So clear it," Gibbs said. "You got a helo leaving at 1500, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Should be plenty of time." He gave Geasley a rare, wide smile. "This is your chance to knock DiNozzo out and switch identities."

"Hey!" Tony protested. "You're sending Ziva too."

"He's not going to be able to pass himself off as Ziva, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"I meant she wouldn't let it happen," Tony argued.

"I wouldn't mind being stuck out here with her, though," Geasley said, making Tony's hackles rise. "Okay, Gibbs. Let me clear it. I'll get in touch if there's a problem."

"Our regards to your Captain," Gibbs said, then gave Solis the signal to cut the transmission.

Tony waited until he turned to face him, and then lifted an eyebrow. "You know Vance is going to get an angry phone call from the Captain now."

Gibbs shrugged, and didn't quite succeed in holding back a grin. "The director's an excellent diplomat, DiNozzo. I'm sure he'll handle it with grace."

Tony rolled his eyes and then his head as he turned to follow Gibbs out of MTAC.

Back in the bullpen, Ziva was leaning back against the shelf behind McGee's desk and watching him type at lightning speed. She looked up as Tony and Gibbs returned, but McGee remained laser focused on his computer screen.

"Agent Afloat?" Ziva prompted.

"West was the perfect officer," Tony told her. "As far as he knew. Didn't know him personally, but heard good things."

Ziva opened her mouth to ask another question, but Gibbs jumped in.

"I'm sending you and DiNozzo out there to confirm with those who knew him," he said. "You're on a transport at 1500."

Ziva narrowed her eyes and pushed her jaw forward as she absorbed the information, and then just accepted it. She looked over at Tony, who took the opportunity of Gibbs' back being turned to mime hanging himself with his tie. She smiled, and Tony took his seat before Gibbs turned back around.

"Of course," Ziva finally said in reply to Gibbs. "No problem."

Gibbs nodded like he knew it wouldn't be. "What'd Viv say?"

"She made a compelling case against her involvement."

"Do you believe her?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation.

"Then we got to prove it."

"I can almost prove that Tom West wasn't buying the drugs himself," McGee piped up. "I've been looking through their bank records for the last three months, and there are no abnormal withdrawals of any kind. The Wests are incredibly routine with their payments. Almost everything is done online. The few withdrawals they make from ATMs seem to be from the same ATMs near their home, and of roughly the same amount." He looked between each of his co-workers. "If he was buying drugs while he was back in the States, he was buying them cheap. Or he had a separate bank account we haven't found yet."

"Make sure he didn't," Gibbs said. "Meanwhile, I want to know what the people he spent every day with said about him. Not second hand information from an agent afloat, or the romanticized version from his wife."

Tony looked over at Ziva. "I think that's our cue."

Ziva looked out the window at the grey sky and tree branches swaying in the wind. "And what a lovely day it is for sailing."

* * *

><p><strong>I know you're all less interested in case stuff than you are in other stuff, but it's a casefic so I've got to include chapters like this occasionally. Other stuff is certainly coming, but I hope these bits keep you interested in between them. Thank you for reading!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

It was raining by the time Tony and Ziva landed on the deck of the USS MacAllister. The grey sky that had been bearing down on them all day had taken a turn for the stormy the further they headed out to sea, and while a little bit of rain wasn't going to stop them landing, a thunderstorm would prevent them from taking off again. Tony wasn't particularly looking forward to extending his stay on the floating city, and nor was Ziva if the filthy look she shot the sky as they disembarked the helo was anything to go by. He nudged her as they jogged across the flight deck towards Special Agent Bob Geasley.

"Think positive thoughts," he told her, yelling to be heard above the noise of the helo.

Ziva looked at him with disbelief. "What do you know about positive thoughts?"

She had a point. He would never call himself an optimist. But sometimes it was worth pretending.

Geasley met them with a big smile and firm handshakes before leading them inside the dry of the ship. "Welcome on board, agents," he said. "I hope you appreciate the weather we've turned on for you."

"Not really," Tony said honestly.

"My efforts always go unrecognized," Geasley joked, then jerked his head in the direction of the stairwell. "I've got some men lined up to talk to you. And found a spare meeting room."

They followed him down the stairwell and through the labyrinth of corridors towards his quarters. As they headed deeper into the ship, Tony felt anxiety grow in his chest. He'd truly hated his time as Agent Afloat. He'd hated the isolation, even amongst 6,000 sailors. He'd hated being the one cop on board. He'd hated that the only person who contacted him regularly had been Abby, not because she wasn't a good source of information and a better lifeline to his 'real' life, but because it meant that he didn't hear from Gibbs or McGee. He had heard from Ziva, but he hadn't responded. Partly because he hated being away from her, and getting in touch would just sharpen the hurt. Partly because he was carrying guilt over Jenny Shepard's death, and seeing Ziva only compounded it. But God, he'd missed her. And he'd missed real food. And movies. And downtime. He just wasn't made to be at sea.

After a long minutes of climbing down and then up stairs, and making roughly 30 turns into the maze, Geasley opened a door and stood aside to let them in.

"It's a tight squeeze, I'm afraid," he said with a hint of a leering smirk as Ziva passed him and stepped into the room. "Hope you don't mind being on top of each other."

Tony gave him a look that told him to knock it off, and then stuck his head into the room. There was a small table with four chairs around it, and with Ziva crammed in there as well it really didn't look like they could fit much more inside.

"It'll do, thanks," Tony said, and stepped in to stand at the other end of the table from Ziva. She avoided looking at him, and instead addressed Geasley.

"Did you get to talk to the ship's doctor?" she asked.

"Briefly," Geasley said. "Not enough to find out if Lieutenant West saw him. But he said if you went to see him he'd look it up for you."

Tony nodded as Ziva took a seat. "Thanks. Have you got a second before you start sending in the troops?"

Geasley leaned against one side of the doorframe and braced his arm out against the other. He flashed a smile at Ziva. "Sure. What's up?"

"Is there any illicit drug use on this ship?" Tony asked, getting to the point and succeeding in diverting Geasley's attention from his partner.

Geasley gave him a curious look, checked the hallways behind him and then stepped into the room and braced his hands on the back of the chair in front of him. "That made it back to D.C. already?" he asked.

Tony put on his poker face, even as he felt a shot of excitement that they might've gotten to the heart of the cause of Tom West's death. "Why don't you explain what happened."

"We were docked in Thailand for a few days," Geasley told them. "Phuket. Some of the sailors at liberty overindulged. Bought some drugs on the streets. They got a dressing down when they returned to the ship and weren't allowed back on shore again. One was formally reprimanded."

"Lieutenant West?" Ziva asked.

Geasley chucked and shook his head. "No way. From what I hear, he was a one beer and done guy."

"Anyone under him?"

"No," Geasley said, frowning. "His guys are about as straight as him."

"How many sailors are we talking about?" Tony asked.

"Five," Geasley said. "I'm sure there were more, but that's how many were caught."

"What about other drug use on the ship?" Ziva asked.

"None that I've been made aware of," Geasley replied. "Why?"

"We're investigating whether drugs were involved in Lieutenant West's death," Tony said.

Geasley seemed to consider that, then made a face like he didn't buy it. "I don't know. I didn't know the guy personally. But like I said, I only ever heard good things about him, personally and professionally."

"So you have not heard anything about anyone having a grudge against him?" Ziva checked.

Geasley shook his head. "No. Doesn't mean there wasn't, though."

Tony shared a brief look with Ziva. She nodded imperceptibly, and Tony turned back to Geasley. "Can you get those five guys who were reprimanded for their drug use added to the list of people we want to talk to?"

"Sure thing. You ready for the others now?"

"Thanks."

Geasley gave him a quick and casual salute, and then went off in search of the sailors from Tom West's deck division he'd lined up to talk to NCIS. Tony took a seat diagonally from Ziva and looked around the tiny grey room as he pulled out his notepad. "I don't like this," he told her.

Ziva's head whipped up and she looked at him in surprise. "You think Geasley is involved?"

Tony took a moment to wonder why she'd said that, then caught on that they had their wires crossed. "No, I'm talking about being on this ship."

Her shoulders relaxed again. "Oh. You are scarred from your time on the Seahawk?"

"To the bone," he said, and then sniffed the air. "I don't like how it smells. The water and the grease and the metal and the sweat of 6,000 men."

"What happened to your moment of positivity?" she asked.

He pursed his lips, realizing she was right but not wanting to admit that he'd forgotten already. "Smell is a very powerful sense. Brings back memories in Technicolor."

"And you prefer to watch the classics in black and white."

He smirked. "I don't know if I'd call my time as Agent Afloat a classic time."

She gave him a knowing look that sent a pang through his chest. "No," she agreed. "That was your B movie phase, yes?"

"More like C," he said. "Or Z."

"I thought you said C and Z were more or less the same thing."

Tony smiled, enjoying the idea that no matter how many times she'd told him to be quiet over the years, she'd been listening to him anyway. "You're an excellent student, Miss David."

"And you are a prolific talker," she returned.

He shrugged that off. "I know. It's a gift."

"It is something," she muttered.

He narrowed his eyes at her very light and not terribly serious rebuke, and then Geasley returned with the first sailor. He gave a sharp rap on the open door and stuck his head in.

"Agents?"

Tony waved them in, but Geasley stayed outside as the ensign with pale blonde hair and a baby face stepped in and nodded at them both. "Sir. Ma'am."

"I'll be back in a few," Geasley said, and then closed the door on them.

"Special Agents DiNozzo and David, NCIS," Tony introduced, addressing the sailor, and shook his hand. He made no attempt to shake Ziva's hand, not that she'd offered, and took the vacant seat beside Tony.

"Ensign Neil Svendsen. Special Agent Geasley said that you wanted to ask some questions about Lieutenant West?"

"Yes. You have been informed that he is deceased?" Ziva asked.

Svendsen nodded, and made a face like he thought that was a shame. "Yeah. It's really bad news."

"Did you know him well?"

"I guess," Svendsen said. "He didn't talk about himself as much as everyone else did, but he told us about his family. He'd hang out with us in the mess. I'd be happy to have a beer with the guy, but our families weren't going to go on vacation together or anything."

"When he spoke about his family, what did he say?" Ziva asked.

Svendsen shrugged his thin shoulders. "I guess he'd talk about missing his kids. Tell us about his conversations with them. His little girl was sick a while back and he was frustrated he couldn't be there." He paused and looked between them knowingly. "You know what it's like. Whenever my wife tells me that one of our kids got sick or hurt, you want to just run there and hold them and make it all go away. He loved being at sea, but he missed those kids."

Tony knew Svendsen had to be old enough to have a wife and kids, but his baby face jarred somewhat with his statement. Not that it mattered. "What about his wife?" Tony asked, staying on track. "Did he ever talk about her?"

"Viv, yeah," he said, nodding. "I met her once, a while back. She's a cop. Nice enough."

"Do you know if they were happy?" Tony asked.

Svendsen seemed surprised by the question. "I assume they were. I mean, I never heard him say anything bad about her. He bought her a necklace or something when we were in port in Singapore."

"Do you think he would have spoken to you about it if there was a problem with his marriage?" Ziva asked carefully.

Svendsen swallowed, but Tony didn't get the feeling he was being deceitful. He thought it was likely that Svendsen was just uncomfortable with the idea that Tom West might have been killed by his wife. "No," he admitted. "Like I said, I knew him well enough, but I wouldn't say we were friends."

"How about his reputation on the ship?" Tony asked.

Svendsen sat forward and gestured with long, thin hands to make his point. "People liked him," he said definitively. "He was easy to get along with, he was fair and he was the kind of guy who'd always have your back. People had a lot of respect for him."

"Can you think of anyone who might've had a grudge against him?"

"No," Svendsen said, shaking his head. "I doubt anyone would have. He wasn't loud and obnoxious. He treated his men well. He wasn't in it for himself. He was all about the team. And he served with honor."

"Always?" Ziva asked.

Pale blonde eyebrows frowned in her direction. Clearly, he didn't appreciate that she would call Tom West's conduct into question. "Always," he confirmed.

Ziva, having unintentionally fallen into the role of the bad guy but running with it anyway, pressed further. "So you did not know him to be a drug user?"

Svendsen stared at her in silent surprise for a moment. "You have got to be kidding," he finally said.

Ziva glanced at Tony before baiting Svendsen a little further, hoping to drag out more information. "So…I will write that down as a no?"

Blood rose in Svendsen's baby cheeks. "You are talking about a lieutenant in the United States Navy," he stated, making it clear that he thought Ziva should be ashamed of herself for asking. "These are men of honor. They are not drug addicts."

"So basically," Tony said, drawing Svedsen's attention back to him, "Lieutenant West was a great guy, a role model, everyone liked him, he never broke the rules, and no one held a grudge against him."

Svendsen nodded once, firmly. "Yes, sir. That's about it."

Tony flipped his notebook shut and gave him a pleasant smile. "Thank you for your time."

Over the next three hours, Tony and Ziva interviewed half a dozen other men, including West's Lieutenant Commander. Every single interview went the same way, except that the Lieutenant Commander was able to confirm that he knew Tom had been struggling for a few years, but he didn't know why. He'd assumed it had to do with his marriage, and had even expected to hear of a divorce at one point. But aside from that, he was as complimentary and baffled as everyone else. Tom West was a great guy. He loved his job. He loved his family. He loved his country. He got along well with people. He would never take drugs.

When Tony and Ziva moved on to interviewing the sailors who had been caught with drugs in Phuket, the narrative changed slightly to _'didn't know him/heard he was a good guy, never saw him buy drugs'_. Every sailor swore they bought the drugs—a local amphetamine known as _yaba_—independently for one-time, personal use, and that they didn't know if any other sailor had bought drugs without being caught.

When the last sailor left, Ziva closed her notebook, crossed her arms and let out a sigh. "I smell a cat."

"Rat," he corrected as he finished writing a final note. "Why?"

She leaned forward and raised her eyebrows at him. "No one in the history of mankind has ever successfully made every person they come into contact with like them."

Tony was dubious. "That's not true."

"It is," she insisted. "It does not matter who you are and how kind and generous you think you are. There is always someone who hates you."

Tony frowned deeply, and cocked his head to the side. "Are you trying to start a specific conversation with me?" he asked, then had another thought. "Wait, this isn't about the prickly thing again, right?"

She sighed again, heavier. "No," she said with forced control. "I am making the point that it is strange that every single person we have spoken to about Lieutenant West has considered him to be a flawless human being."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Not a single person has had one bad thing to say about him," Ziva said.

"People don't like to speak ill of the dead," he told her. But Ziva scoffed.

"We hear people speak ill of the dead all the time, Tony."

Okay, he'd give her that. "So, what? You think someone just lied to us? Who? They all seemed sincere to me."

"They did to me, too," Ziva said. "I am suggesting we have not spoken to the right person yet."

Tony flipped his notebook shut, and pushed his chair back. "Then I guess we better keep investigating. Let's go talk to the ship's doctor."

They both stood, and Tony held the door open for her to let her step out first. When she drew level with him, he leaned in slightly.

"Do you really think there is a person out there somewhere who doesn't like me?"

Ziva's head turned sharply so she could look at him with disbelief. He grinned at her, letting her in on the joke, and then her expression fell away to one of amused familiarity.

"Perish the thought."

They had to wait for Doctor Jeff Whitaker to treat a sailor with a nasty cut to his hand before they could speak to him. It was past 2100 and Tony's stomach felt like it was starting to eat itself by the time Whitaker washed his hands and waved them into the infirmary.

"Sorry for making you wait, agents," he said, extending his clean hand to each of them. "But duty calls."

"No problem," Tony said, but then winced slightly as his stomach let out a growl loud enough to draw everyone's attention. "Sorry. Thought we'd be home by dinner time."

Whitaker gave him something approaching a sympathetic smile, and then opened a drawer in his desk and dug around. He pulled out a granola bar and handed it over. "It's all yours."

Tony's stomach growled again in appreciation, and he took the bar with over-the-top gratitude. "Jeff, was it? I'm going to name my first son after you."

Whitaker smiled pleasantly. "That's not the first time I've heard that," he said. "But as far as I know, no one has followed through on their promise yet." He took another bar out of his desk and offered it to Ziva. "Agent David?"

She shook her head. "Thank you, but I am not hungry."

Tony didn't have a clue how she did that. Sometimes she went the entire day without eating, and aside from getting a little crankier than usual, she didn't seem to suffer any ill effects. It had been about eight hours since Tony had eaten, and frankly, he was about ready to pass out.

Whitaker took the bar for himself and leaned back against his desk as he tore open the wrapper. Tony started to follow his lead, but Ziva shot him a fleeting look of disapproval that he would eat during an interview. He put the granola bar in his pocket sadly, but made a deal with himself that if the interview went for longer than five minutes, he was going to pull it out again.

"Agent Geasley said that he spoke to you about the death of Lieutenant Tom West," Ziva began.

Whitaker nodded and took a big bite of his granola bar before leaning over his desk to retrieve a file. "Yeah," he said around a mouthful of food, and then waited while he swallowed most of it down before continuing. "That's a real shame."

Tony shared a look with Ziva over the predictability of his comment. "Did you know him?" Tony asked.

Whitaker shook his head as he flipped through the file. "No," he said, then revised. "Well, not personally. Apparently I treated him a few months ago."

"For what?"

"Headache."

Tony was underwhelmed. "Right."

"So you gave him painkillers?" Ziva asked, catching on to something Tony was sure he would have if he hadn't been so damn hungry.

"A couple of Tylenol," Whitaker said. He consulted his notes. "Actually, more than a couple. He came back quite a few times within a period of a few days. Eventually I gave him codeine."

Tony thought it through. If Tom West was a drug addict, he would definitely fake illness to get pills. But codeine was a downer, and amphetamines were uppers. It was possible he chased one with the other to try to balance himself out, but the only long-term drug use Ducky had identified by his tox screen was for antidepressants. Tony wasn't sure that the codeine really fit in.

"When was this, exactly?" Ziva asked.

"First week of July," Whitaker replied. "He only got one dose of codeine, and I ordered him to his quarters to sleep it off. He didn't come back, so I guess that did the trick."

"Do you remember treating him?" Tony asked.

"Vaguely. He was a nice guy."

"So, you were not giving him ongoing treatment for depression?" Ziva asked.

Whitaker frowned, and checked his notes again. "I have no record of that."

There was a knock on the door, and the three of them turned to see Bob Geasley standing in the doorway.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but we've got a helo departing in 20 heading back your way. Captain wants to know if you'll be on it."

Tony didn't think they were going to get anything more from Whitaker, or anyone else for that matter. "Yeah." He turned back to Whitaker. "Thanks for your time. And dinner."

Whitaker held up the remainder of his granola bar and nodded. "No problem."

"How's the weather looking?" Tony asked as Geasley led them back through the maze and up to the flight deck.

Geasley flashed them a smile over his shoulder. "It'll be a bumpy ride home."

"Great." He patted the granola bar in his pocket and tried to decide whether he wanted something in his stomach to throw up if things got white knuckle in the air, or if he should just stay empty and hope hunger didn't make him sick.

"We're supposed to be all clear by morning," Geasley said. "If you want to hang around, Agent David, I could treat you to a buffet dinner with a seaside view."

"I think I will take my chances in the helo," Ziva told him.

Tony smirked at her back. Yeah, she could be prickly. But in the best possible way.

…

It was too late to head back to the office by the time Tony and Ziva arrived back on shore. With no major breaks in the case to follow through on, Gibbs and McGee would have already headed home. It was what Tony planned on doing as well, but his first priority had been to get to the closest restaurant, drive-thru or hole-in-the-wall that served any kind of food to fill the giant hole in his stomach that Whitaker's granola bar hadn't filled. Ziva had been amenable to the idea of a quick dinner before he dropped her home—frankly, even if she hadn't been, he wouldn't have listened to her—and so they ended up in a diner just a few blocks from base that was pretty busy for the late hour.

As they waited for their orders to come out, both of them pulled out their cell phones and then sat quietly and comfortably across from each other as they checked their messages. Tony bypassed or immediately trashed a couple of promo emails, tried to make a mental note of a dinner invite from a friend he rarely saw anymore, flagged an email from his father to read when he wasn't so tired, and then pulled up an email from Abby. The subject line read _Loved this night_, but there was no body to the email. Just a jpeg attachment that turned out to be a photo of Abby, Tony, Ziva and McGee at some event that had to have taken place at least a few years ago, if the thinness of his face and the chubbiness of McGee's was anything to go by.

"Did you get this thing from Abby?" he asked Ziva.

She looked up from her cell phone with her eyebrows raised in question. "Hmm?"

He waved his phone at her. "This email from Abby," he said. "This photo of us."

Ziva stretched her neck slightly, gesturing for him to show her. He handed over his phone, and Ziva turned and pinched the screen until the photo was positioned properly. She stared at it for a moment, and then an affectionate smile spread slowly over her face. "When was this taken?"

"I don't remember."

She lifted her eyes from the screen to give him a playfully sultry look. "You looked very nice that night."

He grinned as that burn that was between them sparked, but then tried to look offended. "I don't look very nice now?"

She surprised him by giving him a look of genuine sympathy. "You look tired."

He _felt_ tired. And hungry. Where was his order? "Yeah, but still good."

Ziva's eyes fell back to the phone, and she seemed to zoom in on something. "Yes," she said distractedly. She was quiet for a moment as she studied the photo, then smiled fondly, tapped the screen and handed the phone back to him. The photo had been closed, and he wondered what she'd zoomed in on that had held her attention. "Did she say?"

"Say what?"

"When it was taken," Ziva said. "Or why she sent it."

"No. Just said that she loved that night."

"So, she knows when it was taken."

"I guess. But she's not telling." He put his phone back in his pocket and looked out the window beside them. He couldn't see much through the reflection of the diner, but he knew it was getting ugly out there. The flight back to shore hadn't been as stomach-churning as expected, but he wasn't in a rush to do it again. Frosty winds had picked up, and by the time they pulled up at the diner it was beginning to sleet. He thought they might get some more snow before morning. At least that would make Ziva happy.

"She is unhappy."

Tony turned his head to return his gaze to Ziva. "What?" He wished she wouldn't talk in shorthand when he was tired.

"Abby," Ziva said. "She is unhappy."

He nodded slowly, thinking about her behavior that morning, and that Gibbs had asked him about it later. "Yeah. I don't think she likes Cassie much."

Ziva smirked. "Ya think?" she asked, doing her best (and also her worst) Gibbs impression.

Tony didn't know if there was anything he could do about that. But he wasn't convinced it was his jurisdiction, as it were. It sounded more like a thing that Gibbs or McGee had to deal with, and he and Ziva would just be friends and sounding boards for Abby's worries. And it occurred to him that a new worry would probably rear its head very soon.

"Did you hear from Cassie today?" he asked Ziva.

"Not after this morning. Why?"

"I thought maybe the annoying happiness displayed by McAssie was brought on by an agreement to merge all their nerd crap together under one roof."

Ziva stared at him impassively. "I think you are the most romantic man I've ever known," she said, deadpan.

"You wouldn't find an offer to merge all your crap together with someone else's romantic?" he baited.

"Put like that? I might find myself single after such a request," she replied.

Tony nodded and made a mental note on the tiniest chance that a 'merger' of their crap would ever be in their future.

"And I do not think that any offer was made last night," Ziva went on, and then looked him up and down briefly. "I suspect this morning's happiness was a product of nothing more than good sex."

The expression of disgust that pulled at Tony's face was almost involuntary. Ziva chuckled.

"I have not known you to be opposed to good sex in the past, Tony."

Never in his life had he been opposed to it. He was an avid supporter of good sex, and especially of the good sex he'd enjoyed with Ziva that was among the best he'd ever had. He smiled back at her, acknowledging those moments that passed between them.

"I'm not," he agreed. "When it's me having it."

She gave him a teasing look that reminded him very much of the early days of their relationship. "You are going through another dry spell, yes?"

Geez, she had some nerve. Of course he was, and she knew it. "So are you," he threw back, not willing to let her have the upper hand on this.

Ziva gave him one of her trademark snorts of derision. To Tony, that suggested that she thought he didn't know what he was talking about. She may have just been continuing to tease him—this was Ziva, after all—but given the topic, he felt the weight of dread settle in his stomach.

"Wait," he said, struggling to comprehend that the person he thought he was in a monogamous not-relationship with might not have thought the same thing. "Aren't you?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dry?" She let that hang in the air for a moment. "Very."

They watched each other across the table for a few silent seconds. Tony felt that lusty buzz he'd been getting in her presence for the last eight years start up in his belly and the back of his head. His fingers lying flat on the table just inches from hers started itching to reach just a little further and make contact. But he couldn't do that. They were in D.C., and they had a rule about such things. A rule to replace the one that they sort of broke. And so far, they'd both been adamant about sticking to it.

Hence their mutual dry spells.

He thought about making some casual but funny remark that could tease out whether she was still interested in, well, _them_ as a more committed concept, thereby banishing dry spells for good. They'd had painfully careful and somewhat guarded conversations about embarking on a relationship in the past, and ultimately that was still what he wanted (not that he'd said that aloud in so many words to her). But the last time they talked about it they'd agreed to just let it be for a while. Now that 'a while' had passed, he wondered if it was time to talk about it again, still in a careful manner, but hopefully in a less guarded way. He just questioned the intelligence of raising it with her in a diner not far from the Navy Yard. He hesitated too long, though, and Ziva moved the conversation along.

"Tony, I have been meaning to discuss something with you about my interview with Viv this morning."

"What happened?"

Ziva folded her hands together on the table and stared at them thoughtfully before she continued. "The incident with Gibbs aside, do you remember her as being a good agent?"

Tony leaned forward, his interest piqued. He wondered where this was going to go. "Yeah, I guess. I didn't think she was bad."

"Did she have problems with impulse control?"

Tony leaned forward even further. "What did she do?" he asked.

Ziva shook her head. "Nothing. But she made a statement that if we did not solve the case, I expect to her liking, then she would."

"And you're wondering if she's the kind of cop who would get in the way of an investigation," Tony said.

"I think she was mostly upset by Gibbs at the time," Ziva said. "And under the stress of enormous grief. But if you know her to be the loose canon type…"

He had to chuckle. "Viv? No. At least, not when I knew her. She was all about duty and honor. But…" He trailed off as he tried to think of the right way to phrase his thoughts, but the sudden silence put Ziva on edge.

"But what?" she asked warily. "But she has a penchant for assault rifles?"

Tony looked her up and down. "Pot, kettle…" he led.

Ziva crossed her arms. "I do not have a _penchant_," she insisted.

"You have a small armory in your closet," he pointed out.

"Necessity," she argued dismissively with a flick of her wrist. "My penchant lies with knives."

Tony gave her a look like that was the creepiest thing he'd ever heard, but then dropped it and went back to the point he'd been about to make before. "I think that there are a lot of cops who are about duty and honor who still go kind of crazy when they lose the people they care most about. They know they're not supposed to work the case. They know that their involvement will only call the evidence they gather into question. But they do it anyway because they're a cop and it's easy to feel like you failed in protecting them. And that you owe it to them to find the killer. Or get vengeance." His eyes flicked away from hers for a moment as he composed himself and tried to shove memories of Somalia out of his head. He hadn't meant for the explanation to get so personal for them. But it drove home his point. "We see it all the time."

He returned his gaze to hers, and found her watching him with dark eyes full of history. She reached over to cover his hand with hers, and squeezed briefly in acknowledgement before letting go. He doubted if, before their trip to Somalia, anyone would have been certain that he was the kind of guy who'd lead a mission to the other side of the world, one he never intended to come back from, to seek vengeance for the loss of his…_her_. Honestly, not even _he_ knew he was that kind of guy until he was already driving through the desert to meet his assumed fate.

"Yes," she said thickly, accepting his point. "We do. Even Gibbs…well, he was a marine at the time. But we know what he did."

Tony nodded. The guy had murdered Pedro Hernandez over the loss of Shannon and Kelly. And now he arrested people like that. "I guess we play by the rules up until the rules don't work for us anymore."

Ziva looked briefly guilty, he assumed over the rule they'd both kind of broken during their travels away from D.C. lately, but brought the conversation back to its starting point. "So, Viv might make good on her promise."

"Maybe," he said. "But not if we do our jobs right and find the person who killed Tom. Even if it was Tom himself."

"She will not believe that," Ziva said.

Tony eyed her. Usually, he trusted her instincts as much as his own (unless their instincts were at odds, in which case her instincts sucked), but he had to ask. "Are you positive she had nothing to do with it?"

Ziva nodded. "She talked about being lost in herself before she met him, and that he turned her around. When she said she did not know who she would have become if he had not entered her life, it sounded like she was incredibly relieved that she never had to find out. And now, she is lost again."

Tony could relate. But then, probably so could a billion other people who'd ever been in love. "Yeah."

A thoughtful silence passed between them, before Ziva shifted in her seat and changed the mood between them.

"She said some interesting things about you."

Tony took his turn at being wary. "Like what?"

"That you have good instincts," she began.

"I do."

Ziva smirked with affection. "That when you arrived at NCIS, you brought a reputation of being…what was the word she used?" she asked herself.

Tony winced with apprehension. When he knew Viv, he was still taking out his hurt from Wendy leaving him on other women. He definitely knew of one reputation he'd had back then, and he wasn't proud. Well…no, that was a lie. If he was being honest with himself, he'd been very proud of that particular reputation, and part of him still was. But to have Ziva bring it up now would be embarrassing, even if she'd lived through some of his womanizer years.

But it turned out that he was thinking of the entirely wrong reputation.

"Wunderkind," Ziva said with a snap of her fingers. "That was it. She said you were a wunderkind."

Tony blinked with surprise until his pride took over. "Well, of course," he said, with just enough self-awareness to assure her he wasn't completely up his own ass right now. "I am an extremely talented agent."

That got him another smirk, but it accompanied an eye roll. "She seemed surprised that you were still working with Gibbs."

"_I'm_ surprised I'm still working with Gibbs," he replied honestly.

Ziva chuckled. "As am I."

"But when it works, it works," he said with a shrug.

"When you are onto a good thing, yes?"

"You stick with it," he finished. "You know. Until it kills you."

* * *

><p><strong>These updates are becoming more sporadic while I try desperately to write future chapters and keep from running out of them. I ask for patience. Thank you—you're the best.<strong>  
><strong>For the guest who left me the UGH! review of the last chapter—I review I loved, BTW—we'll get to where you want to be eventually. But this is a casefic too!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

It was snowing by the time Ziva arrived at work the next morning. Sure, it was still warm enough that the flakes melted not long after they fluttered to the ground, but the sight was enough to put Ziva in a good mood. She purposely parked in the lot furthest away from the NCIS building so that she could enjoy the weather before it became an inconvenience, and the sting of the cold wind on her cheeks helped wake her up after a long and tiring day before and a late night. Even still, she wondered how many cups of coffee she would need to make it through the day.

The walk also gave her the opportunity to spend some quiet time thinking about her sister. Tomorrow would mark ten years since Tali had died in a bomb blast in Tel Aviv. Had she lived, her little sister would now be 26. Old enough to be married and have a child. Or maybe she would have still been dating, trying to find the right person for her, or just having fun. She would have finished college and started her career, and it would have been in something she loved. There would be no way that Ziva would have allowed her to go into the 'family business', and she would have fought her father tooth and nail to make sure it didn't happen. She wondered what she would have looked like, how her face would have matured. At 16 she had been stunning. Her face was longer than Ziva's, her eyes a lighter brown, her lips fuller and her cheekbones higher, although her cheeks were still plump with youth. Ziva imagined that as Tali aged, those cheekbones would have become more prominent and changed the look of her face. She had still been shorter than Ziva, and she wondered if another year would have seen Tali overtake her.

As she had for the last few years, Ziva wondered what Tali would have thought of her move to the United States. Assuming, of course, that if Tali had lived, Ziva would have moved here at all. She hoped that Tali would have approved. The work was safer than in the Mossad. And although Ziva still struggled with the guilt of leaving the fight to protect her homeland to other people, she felt good about the work she did here. She liked seeing the direct impact she could have on other peoples' lives. She liked defending them, and giving a voice to those who had died. Of all of them, Tali had been a pacifist, and Ziva liked to think that Tali would have appreciated the work she was doing. She wondered if she ever would have been able to coax Tali over the Atlantic to live with her and join the family she'd found herself a part of. When she thought of how Gibbs, Tony and McGee would have taken to her, she had to laugh, even though tears formed in her eyes. She could only imagine that they would have welcomed her in and become ferociously protective of her. Perhaps Gibbs would have taken on the same surrogate father role for her as he had for Ziva. McGee would have been so sweet and kind to her, and Tony…well, she supposed he would have treated her much like he did Abby. Protective. Reassuring. Someone to make her laugh. No doubt he would be the good cop whenever Ziva played the bad cop.

Would Tali have liked Tony? It was something Ziva had wondered about before. She suspected she would have liked him very much, and not just because he would have made her feel special. It had taken Ziva a long time to see it, and longer to accept it, but Tony had made such a positive impact on her life. The whole team had, really. Gibbs had shown unconditional love when she needed it, McGee had refused to judge her and always offered support, Ducky had been a sounding board and offered advice that helped her adjust to life in the States. But Tony had been the one to show her that loyalty didn't always come at a price. He'd been the one to give her a reason to let people in and love them. He'd softened her, and she no longer thought of that as a weakness. He'd brought happiness to her life, and yes, pain as well. He'd taught her things she thought she already knew, challenged her and at times made life difficult. But after eight years, she thought she was all the better for it. She was happier for knowing him. Braver and more hopeful. Yes, she thought Tali would have liked Tony very much. And it hurt that the two of them would never meet. Although perhaps that was a small blessing, she thought with a rueful smile. Tali would have badgered Ziva constantly to do something about her feelings for her partner.

She made it to the path that lead up to the front doors of the NCIS building and saw Ducky up ahead, buried deep in a trench coat, scarf and hat. She smiled and quickened her step to catch up to him, and reached his elbow as they walked into the lobby.

"Good morning, Ducky," she greeted, placing her hand gently on his back.

Ducky turned stiffly to look up at her, and then gave her a charming smile. "Ziva, my dear. How are you on this prematurely chilly morning?"

"Very well, thank you," she said, and swiped her ID card to open the security gates. "I wanted to ask you if there was anything I could bring to Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow."

"Ah, but of course," he said, switching his briefcase to his other hand as he passed through the gates behind her. "Ms Sciuto has offered to arrive early to help me prepare turkey with all the fixins, as she calls them."

"Do you need another pair of hands?" Ziva offered, but Ducky shook his head.

"Thank you, my dear, but I think we will manage. But could I trouble you to bring a bottle or two of wine? I've found your selections to be rather good in the past."

"Of course," Ziva said, and hit the button for the elevator. "It is the least I can do."

"Is there anyone you would like to bring?" Ducky asked.

"Anyone?" Ziva echoed, not quite catching his meaning.

Ducky turned warm, kind eyes on her. "Our tribe grows this year," he said. "Mr Palmer will be bringing his dearly beloved, and young Timothy has requested a place at the table for Cassie. We have room and enough food if there is someone you would like to bring."

Ziva felt a mild pang in her chest, but smiled and shook her head. "No time for that, Ducky," she told him with a wink. "Too many murders to solve."

The elevator going up arrived, and Ziva stepped towards it as Ducky, waiting for the elevator going down to autopsy to arrive, took the last word on the subject.

"I fear I held the same misguided belief for much of my youth," he told her. "But a word of advice, if I may be so bold. It will leave you with regrets. Make the time. I would like you to bring someone to the Thanksgiving table next year."

It cut close to the bone, and Ziva was only able to offer a weak smile as she stepped into the elevator. "Thank you, Ducky," she said, and hit the button for the bullpen.

"Hold the lift!"

Ziva looked up sharply at the cry, and saw Tony just clearing the security gate. She reached out to hold the elevator door from closing as Tony jogged towards her with a smile.

"Dr Mallard," he threw at Ducky as he passed and jumped into the lift.

"Good morning, Anthony," Ducky returned, and then Ziva moved her arm and let the doors close.

"We're on the same schedule this week," Tony said as he smoothed his hand down his chest to fix his tie.

Ziva was still thinking about Ducky's advice, and didn't quite catch what Tony said. "Hmm?"

Tony motioned between them. "We're on the same schedule. Two days in a row we've met in the lift."

"Oh."

"You're late," he said, not noticing that she was distracted. "So you had to park in one of the outside lots."

"Late night," she said. "I slept in."

"Yeah, me too."

She nodded and then looked up at him with curiosity. There was something she suddenly wanted to ask him, but didn't know if she could. Or how.

Tony noticed the look and cocked his head to the side. "You have thinking face," he said.

_Go for casual_, she told herself. "No, I was just talking to Ducky about lunch tomorrow."

"Turkey day," Tony said, and rubbed his belly. "Maybe I shouldn't eat today so that I've got room for tomorrow's feast."

"You almost passed out yesterday when you didn't eat for a few hours," she pointed out.

"Oh. Right."

She cleared her throat. "Are you bringing anyone?" Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for him to reply.

"Anyone who, where?" he asked.

That essentially answered her question, and she would have liked to have just told him _never mind_ and then changed the subject. But she knew he wouldn't accept that.

"To lunch," she said, trying to keep her casual tone. "Ducky asked me if I was bringing anyone, and I wondered if he asked because someone had asked for a plus one."

"Probably McGee asked to bring Cassie," Tony said.

"Ah," she said, as if he really had just solved the mystery for her. "Yes, of course."

They were silent for a moment, and she felt Tony's mood shift from jovial to uncomfortable.

"Are you, uh, under the impression that I have someone to bring?" he asked, his voice dropping to the level he favored for their more personal discussions.

The pang in her chest became sharper. "No," she said. "No, I'm not. But I did not want to assume, or…" She trailed off when she realized that probably wasn't what he wanted to hear. "I mean, I do assume, but maybe…um…"

"Didn't we just have a conversation about dry spells?" Tony reminded her.

Ziva had to laugh at herself for forgetting so quickly. "Yes. We did."

"Didn't change overnight," Tony said.

She leaned against the wall and looked at him as he smiled at her with affection. She hoped she mirrored that affection back, but she felt that she needed to explain herself. Even if it had the potential to make them even more uncomfortable.

"We haven't talked about…_things_ for months," she said. She hoped that was all he would need to understand she was talking about the nature of their relationship, and that she wouldn't have to go into more detail. Although she had been the one to bring it up, she didn't think this was the time or the place to get more specific.

But Tony nodded as his eyes did a quick sweep of her from top to toe and back again. "It's been a while," he agreed.

She felt her palms begin to sweat, and her heartbeat picked up again. She licked her lips nervously. "I am not looking for anyone else to bring to Thanksgiving dinner."

He gazed at her for a moment, sending her heartbeat up another notch, and then gave her a smile that made her skin prickle. "I'm content with the company we've got."

With fidelity (or celibacy) vaguely confirmed, Ziva relaxed and tried to casually change the subject. "I am bringing wine," she said.

"For lunch? What am I supposed to bring?"

"I am not sure," she said, and then the elevator opened on their floor. As soon as they stepped out of the elevator Ziva felt herself calm as the atmosphere changed entirely. She missed the coziness of the two of them together in a small space, but welcomed the safety of being in public.

"I'll ask Ducky," he said, and they both went to their desks. McGee was already in his chair, and he looked up as his colleagues arrived.

"Hey, how did it go on the MacAllister?" he asked.

"It wasn't what you would call helpful," Tony replied. "Where's Gibbs?"

Taking his usual cue, Gibbs chose that moment to stride into the bullpen, ever-present coffee in his hand. "Waiting for you two to get your butts in here so we can start working," he said.

"Sorry boss," Tony said as Ziva booted her computer. "Late night."

Gibbs took a seat behind his desk and beckoned them all to come over. "Come. Debrief."

Ziva shared a look with Tony as she got up from her desk before she'd even logged in and joined him and McGee at Gibbs' desk. It may have been too early to call it, but it certainly seemed that Gibbs was in a bad mood today.

"We interviewed everyone who worked with Lieutenant West, including his Lieutenant Commander," Ziva said. "Not a single person had a bad word to say about him."

"Loyal, committed, patriot," Tony picked up, ticking off some of the words they'd heard used over and over to describe Tom West. "Team player, excellent leader."

"No enemies," Ziva threw in.

Gibbs nodded as if he'd been expecting to hear that. "Anything about his personal life?"

Ziva shared another look with Tony, and he nodded at her, telling her to go ahead.

"The Lieutenant Commander said that he felt West had been struggling for a few years," she said. The information made Gibbs' eyebrows rise, so she continued. "It did not sound as though it was confirmed, but he felt that West's troubles had to do with his marriage."

"He said that at one point, he expected Tom and Viv to get divorced," Tony added. "But it sounded like that was a while ago, and things had gotten better."

"Other than that, no one seemed to know very much about his private life at all," Ziva went on. "A few people had met Viv at parties but had no impression of her other than she seemed nice."

"Did you talk to the ship's doctor about the antidepressants?" McGee asked.

"He said he only ever treated West for a headache," Tony said.

Gibbs sighed heavily and looked annoyed, so Ziva threw him a bone.

"We did hear something interesting," she said. "While in port in Phuket, several sailors bought amphetamines. They were found out and reprimanded."

"Lieutenant West?" Gibbs asked, almost hopefully. But Tony and Ziva shook their heads.

"None of those sailors worked with or interacted with West," Tony said. "They all swore on the Bible that everyone they knew of who'd bought or taken the drugs had been caught. West wasn't part of it."

"You got the names of those sailors?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, I'll pull them up," Tony said. But before he went back to his computer he turned things over to Gibbs and McGee. "You get anything from his Navy doctor?"

"Tom West was the picture of health the last time he visited the doctor on base for a routine exam," McGee said. "He had nothing in his records about treating the Lieutenant for depression, or any other ongoing condition."

"Viv said that Tom did not want the Navy to know about his depression," Ziva reminded them.

McGee nodded. "Right. So we also talked to a civilian doctor who Viv said Tom had been seeing. He confirmed that he'd prescribed SNRIs for depression, and that he'd been referred to a mental health therapist. He had nothing in his files about Tom admitting to illicit drug use."

"Did you talk to the therapist?" Ziva asked as Abby came tottering into the bullpen with a piece of paper in her hand.

McGee looked anxious, and his eyes slid over to Gibbs. Ziva followed his gaze and found a storm gathering on Gibbs' face.

"Not yet," Gibbs growled. "Today. We'll get her to talk to us today."

Ziva sensed the therapist had something to do with Gibbs' mood, but she wasn't about to start digging for clarification. Fortunately, Abby stepped in to fill the suddenly awkward silence.

"I found something," she said, and put the piece of paper down on Gibbs' desk. She wasn't as perky or energetic as usual. In fact, Ziva would go so far as to say that the forensic scientist looked sad. But that didn't detract from the quality of her work. "I narrowed down the type of amphetamine in Tom West's blood. It was yaba."

"Yaba?" Tony and Ziva said in unison.

Abby paused for a second and looked at them oddly. "Yeah, yaba," she repeated. "It's big in areas of Southeast Asia."

"Like Phuket," Tony said. "Boss, that's the amphetamine that the sailors on the MacAllister took."

The mood in the room changed as they all realized that they had a potential lead. Gibbs stood up, even though he didn't have anywhere to go, and leaned over his desk a little.

"You get a name and location of the dealer?" he asked Tony.

Tony barely managed to hold back his snort. "Uh, not exactly. We could get a vague location if we talked to one of the sailors again, but I don't think we'll get lucky with a name."

"Get back in touch with Geasley," Gibbs told him.

"On it," Tony said, and turned to go back to his desk.

Ziva felt the adrenaline of a case moving into full swing fill her veins. But at the same time, she had to make her gut feeling clear. "Gibbs, Tony and I…neither of us got the impression that anyone on the MacAllister was being untruthful. None of our evidence or witness statements point to Tom West being a drug user."

"I know that, David," Gibbs returned. "But the drugs got into his body somehow and we need to follow what we have."

"Are you discounting Viv?" Abby asked.

"Not yet," Gibbs said. "Not entirely. But if the drugs came from Thailand, it's less likely she was involved."

Ziva crossed her arms over her chest. She had interviewed Viv and had no doubt that she wasn't involved. She had told Gibbs as much already, but it seemed as though he wasn't ready to fully accept her assessment yet. It hurt her professional pride.

"Even though it sounds like they had marital problems?" McGee asked. "She could've asked one of Tom's shipmates to slip him something."

"That is quite a leap," Ziva said.

Gibbs shot her a sideways glance, acknowledging her irritation. "It is," he agreed, making a rare effort to placate her. "But let's not discount anyone just yet until we have something more solid."

Tony hung up from his quick phone call with Geasley and called out from his desk. "Geasley'll talk to one of the busted sailors and try to track down the dealer," he said. "Well, as much as you can track down a street dealer on the other side of the world."

Gibbs nodded. "All right. McGee, you're coming with me to talk to the therapist. DiNozzo, David, I want you to try to track down that dealer."

Ziva looked at Tony, and the look of pain on his face reflected exactly how she felt. Talk about a needle in a haystack.

"I don't suppose you have any contacts in Thailand?" Tony asked hopefully. But Ziva shook her head.

"I do not know for sure, but I think the closest right now would be in India."

"Then get on the phone to travel," Gibbs said as he and McGee gathered their coats. "If we think we can track down this guy's location, we'll need to question him about his United States Navy customers."

"Travel?" Ziva asked with a frown. "I thought NCIS had a field office in Bangkok."

"Our case, David," Gibbs said, shutting the argument down. "If we think we can get close to this guy, I want you two on a plane as soon as possible."

Getting on a plane to Thailand wasn't high on Ziva's list of things she wanted to do today, but it was Abby who cried out in protest.

"But it's Thanksgiving tomorrow!" Abby shot in, aiming a look of horror at Gibbs that should have cut straight to his heart. "You can't just send two of us away on Thanksgiving!"

Gibbs seemed to take a moment to gauge whether her could blow the protest off or if he had to take the time to address it. Abby's eyes were wide and sad, her bottom lip barely pouting and her chin quivering, and her arms were crossed tightly against her chest. At the sight of it, Gibbs sighed and returned to her, and put his hands on her arms.

"If someone killed Tom, we have to find out who it was before any more time passes," he explained gently, somehow managing to not make it sound like he was speaking to a child. "Viv deserves that. Their kids deserve it."

Abby watched him for a few silent moment until finally her shoulders sagged and she looked away. "I know," she said. "Those poor kids lost their dad, and we have to find out why."

Gibbs gave her a cheek a quick peck, and then he walked between Tony and Ziva's desks again and rejoined McGee. "We'll be back in an hour," he called, and then he and McGee were gone.

"Hey, cheer up, Abs," Tony said, and got out of his chair to walk over and sling his arm around her shoulders. "We might not even be able to get a flight out for a week. Washington DC to Phuket is a really busy route."

Abby and Ziva both sent him the same look of utter disbelief.

"Well, that's a big fat lie," Abby declared.

"It is more likely that there are not daily flights," Ziva said. "We may still be able to make Thanksgiving lunch."

Abby nodded and stood up straighter again as she tried to come to peace with the situation. "I hope so," she said. "Because I need people to get drunk with me to help cope with the Land of Sunshine and Rainbows that McGee and Cassie live in."

Ziva shared a look with Tony, and this time she nodded at him. He was far better equipped to deal with this.

"I will absolutely get drunk with you if I'm there, and not about to get on a trans-Atlantic flight," Tony promised.

"Pacific," Ziva corrected.

"Huh?"

"To get to Thailand we would be flying over the Pacific Ocean."

Tony rolled his eyes at her, and she gave him the benefit of the doubt that it was for Abby's benefit. "Thanks, Magellan."

She narrowed her eyes back at him.

Tony squeezed Abby's shoulder. "I know they're really annoying and happy," Tony said to her, finding a good balance between firm and sympathetic. "But give McGee a break, okay? He's taking steps towards adulthood, and he's still about 20 years behind where he should be, development-wise."

"Tony," Abby admonished, even as a little smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

"He's trying," Tony said. "One of us should, and Palmer doesn't count. We've got to support him so he can act as our beacon of hope that the rest of us aren't lost causes, and wow, I can't believe I just said that about McGee." She looked between Abby and Ziva, and then pointed at each of them sternly. "Don't either of you dare tell him I said that."

Ziva crossed her heart (that was starting to ache again), and Abby linked her little finger with his and shook it.

"I swear," she said, and then kissed Tony's cheek. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony nodded. "I'll let you know what our itinerary is as soon as I know."

Abby picked up the piece of paper with the drug test results she'd left on Gibbs' desk, and then went back down to her lab. As Ziva returned to her desk, Tony followed her and leaned over to speak to her just as she sat in her chair.

"For what it's worth," he said, repeating what she had said to him in the elevator, "I have hope."

She held his gaze as she thought it through, and her stomach flipped. _We are not lost causes_. God, she hoped he was right.

"So do I."

He nodded as if they'd just made an agreement, and then walked back to his desk to pick up his phone. "DiNozzo," he answered. "Oh, hey, Geasley. That was fast."

Ziva listened to Tony's side of the conversation as she finally got a chance to log in to her computer. Instead of going straight to her email, she pulled up the NCIS intranet site and looked for the number for the travel department.

"Really? Okay. Pie…wait, how do you spell that?" Tony asked. "P, a, i? Two words?"

Ziva looked up and watched Tony scribble down notes. With every stroke of his pen against the page, his frown seemed to grow deeper.

"Harbor," Tony repeated to himself softly. "Left. Elephant. Got it. I don't suppose we've got a name? Oh, well at least that'll remove the language barrier. Thanks very much." He hung up the phone and looked at Ziva.

"Let me guess," she said. "We are going to Phuket."

"To look for an ex-pat American who sells yaba on Pai Plong Road near a statue of a white elephant, just down from Phuket Harbor," Tony said. "Personally, I can't wait."

Ziva wasn't sure if he was joking. Getting on a plane for God only knew how many hours at short notice was not Ziva's idea of a good time, and she knew for a fact that Tony loathed long plane trips. Having Phuket to look forward to at the end of the journey wasn't so bad, but it was not as though they would be able to spend much down time exploring the place. Not only that, but they probably would not be on the ground for much longer than a day or two before they had to turn around and come back again. She sighed with the expectation of exhaustion, dropped her head and picked up her phone to call the travel department.

"I am tired already."

…

While they waited for the travel department to get back to them with flight and accommodation details, Tony tried to do some research into whether there had been any other sailors on ships that had gone through Phuket who had been busted for drug possession or use. Although Gibbs had said it was their case and he didn't want the local field office involved, Tony sent an email to the Special Agent in Charge anyway to find out if he knew of any dealers matching the description they had, or who was known for selling to Americans. He didn't hold his breath for a quick response. Thailand was 12 hours ahead of Washington D.C., so the earliest reply he could hope for wouldn't come until early evening. But any information the agent might have would give him and Ziva a head start when they landed way down south.

Next, he started searching incident reports for any that had the keywords Phuket, Thailand, yaba or amphetamines. He knew it was a long shot, but he had the time to check whether there'd been a previous incident where the dealer's name had been recorded. He suspected the search would take a while, so while it ran he did a general Google search on Phuket. He'd never been there—had never even thought about going—and so his general knowledge of the area was more or less restricted to news reports about a devastating tsunami some years back, and that the movie The Beach was filmed there.

He spent several long minutes reading up on the tourism industry and the kinds of places that sailors might go for fun. It didn't look like any visitor to the island would be lost for something to do, either day or night. In fact, it kind of looked like a party town. He did a second search about drug use, and found dozens of articles about how easy it was to buy drugs on the street. Amphetamines seemed to be the drug of choice, although the country was beginning to have a problem with heroin and cocaine. All the articles he read stressed that a person caught in possession of illicit drugs could face the death penalty or life in jail, and that there were undercover police working all over the tourist areas to catch them out.

Tony frowned and leaned back in his chair. Surely US sailors at liberty in Phuket would know all this. Surely someone, somewhere along the line, would have made sure that they knew the risks. He'd worked narcotics a lifetime ago, so Tony knew that the threat of punishment wasn't a deterrent for some people. But what kind of idiot would risk their Navy career and jail time on the other side of the world over a couple of pills?

He switched back to his search screen, and he wasn't surprised that he hadn't gotten any hits yet. The sailors on board the MacAllister who had been caught with drugs had essentially been let off with a smack on the wrist. It didn't seem normal to Tony, but perhaps it had been kept on the down low to avoid drawing the attention of the Thai police, and to protect US citizens. He wondered if that happened a lot on ships passing through Phuket.

His desk phone rang and he answered quickly, half expecting it to be Gibbs. "DiNozzo."

There was a slight pause before a man replied. "Special Agent DiNozzo? This is Special Agent Pete Wattana down in Bangkok. I just got your email."

Tony looked up quickly to share his surprise with Ziva, but found that she wasn't at her desk. He had no idea that she'd left. "Oh, hi there," he said. "I didn't expect to hear from you for a couple of hours."

"Late night for us," Wattana said with an air of resignation. "Long case. I was actually pretty happy to get your email, to tell you the truth. I was looking for a distraction."

"Well, I'm happy to help," Tony said.

"So, you're looking for a drug dealer?" Wattana asked. "Has the clean up effort in D.C. been so effective that you've got to look further afield?"

"I don't think we're quite there yet," Tony said. "It's case-related. We think some drugs bought on shore leave in Phuket might've been involved in the death of a sailor at home." He hoped that would be enough information to satisfy Wattana. If he went into too much more detail then Wattana might want in on the case. And then Gibbs would be cranky. _Very _cranky.

"And you think the sailor bought it from an American who deals near Pai Plong Road in Phuket."

"That's the information we have." He looked up as Ziva returned to the bullpen and gestured at her to let her know there was something potentially interesting going on. Ziva detoured off her planned route to her desk and ended up at his, eyebrow arched in interest.

"Well, it probably won't be too hard to track him down, if I ask the right people the right questions," Wattana said. "I know a guy who might know."

"A cop?" Tony asked.

"Who's a cop?" Ziva asked.

"No, civilian," Wattana said. "Sort of." He paused. "Am I to assume that you'd rather keep this off the Thai police radar?"

"There's really no reason to involve them at all," Tony said. "We don't even know if this is anything yet."

"Okay," Wattana said, but it sounded like he knew Tony was holding back. "Well, give me a day to track this guy down and I'll ask him if he knows an American drug dealer on Pai Plong Road."

"Thanks, Pete," Tony said. "Um, I might be out of range on and off for the next day or so. Could you email me?"

There was a longer pause than normal before Wattana replied, "Sure. No problem."

"I really appreciate you calling," Tony said. "Good luck on your case."

"Good luck on yours," Wattana replied, and hung up.

Tony put the receiver down and looked up at Ziva. "Don't tell Gibbs," he began.

Ziva looked over her shoulder to make sure their fearless leader wasn't around, and then slid closer to him. "Who were you talking to?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"Our man in Bangkok," he said, closing the distance between them a little more. "He thinks he might know a guy in Phuket who could get the name of the dealer."

"Well, that would be helpful," she said. "Is he a cop?"

"Civilian. Sort of."

"What does _sort of_ mean?"

"I don't know."

"Okay." She looked him up and down. "Good work." She went back to her desk

"Did you know that possession of methamphetamine in Thailand can land you a long prison sentence?" he asked.

Ziva sat at her desk and glanced at him knowingly. "That sounds like the US. Hardly shocking."

"Did you know that if you're found carrying enough of it, you can be sentenced to death?"

"What is the point you are dancing with?"

"What sailor at liberty in Phuket wouldn't know that?" he asked.

Ziva shrugged. "One that is not interested in buying drugs in the first place?"

Tony stood up and walked over to her. "I was Agent Afloat once, you know," he reminded her.

Ziva abruptly stopped typing and looked up at him. "I remember."

He wished they could both forget. "That kind of information was well known before we arrived in port. Safety issues. Things to be aware of."

"So, the sailors who bought the drugs knew that they'd be prosecuted if they got caught," Ziva said. "That does not surprise me."

"I just think it's weird."

"Why? They did not think they would get caught."

"I guess."

She gave him an odd look, and then gestured at her computer. "Travel information has come through."

He came around behind her and read over her shoulder. "What have we got?"

Ziva opened the email and read aloud. "Depart Dulles tomorrow at 12pm." She paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Abby will not be pleased," she told him, and then returned to the email. "Dulles to Seoul, Seoul to Bangkok, Bangkok to Phuket."

Tony sighed and dropped his forehead against the back of her shoulder. "Oh, dear God," he sighed. "How many hours?"

"Uh…there are a few time zones involved so I am not sure."

"This is why Americans don't travel very much."

"Take a pill and sleep through it," she suggested.

He leaned back against her bookshelf. "Okay. Can you put me over your shoulder and carry me through transit lounges?"

"Maybe. I have not been to the gym in two days."

He grinned and then bumped her shoulder. "I guess we better go break the news to Abby."


	7. Chapter 7

**Apologies for the delay. Just trying to get a few more completed chapters ready in reserve so you don't end up with nothing for months. **

* * *

><p>Ziva hated packing. She knew that she was lucky to have seen as much of the world as she had, albeit usually in a blur and under the cover of darkness as she executed whatever mission she was responsible for. But she had done her share of traveling for pleasure as well. There were stamps in her passport from countries many people in the US had never heard of, and plenty from ones they had. She was grateful that she had the opportunity. But honestly, she was growing tired of it. Or rather, she was growing tired of the packing and traveling side of it. She wished she could just snap her fingers and be on the other side of the world, instead of looking at about 30 hours of flights and transfers ahead of her. And back, of course. And all within just a few days.<p>

She was exhausted just thinking about it.

Although, to be fair, the cause of her current level of exhaustion was more likely to be related to the string of sleepless nights she had recently, and last night in particular. She always tried to only give herself a few hours of rest before a long flight, and that was how last night had started. She had stayed up going over the case, and had then read a book. But when the time came to turn off the light and close her eyes, sleep didn't come. Instead, her thoughts focused on two people: Tali and Tony. Mostly Tony. Specifically this trip they had ahead of them—the one she had realized would be a long, long way from D.C.—and the serious talk she knew they would probably have.

The last time they had been out of town and brave enough to talk they had agreed to leave things between them as they were. Ziva couldn't deny that she had become restless with that of late, and with McGee and Cassie on the verge of taking a big step in their relationship, her lack of defined relationship with Tony had been on her mind. But while she had been thinking about it much more than she usually did, she still didn't have a clue what she wanted to _say_ when their next conversation about wants and needs and plans came around.

Would she put it all on the line and then deal with the aftermath, no matter what it was? Last time, Tony had been the one to speak first and say that they had to maintain the status quo. If he still felt that way, and she told him that she wanted more, where would that leave them? Broken apart, and probably irrevocably. Was honesty about her wants and needs worth the risk? Ziva wasn't sure that it was. Surely nothing was worth the loss of her best friend.

And yet, she knew there was so much she stood to gain from her honesty. To love and be loved—openly—wasn't that what life was all about? Or was that just what they wrote in books and sang about in songs to give you hope? To keep you looking and distracted from the reality that, when it came down to it, everyone was truly alone. The thought was enough to send anyone to the depths of despair. But hope for something better was what kept people moving forward with their lives. To what end, though, Ziva wasn't sure.

She sighed at herself as she rolled up a t-shirt and packed it into her duffel bag. She didn't really believe any of that, and she knew that Tony didn't either. She didn't know what the meaning of life was, exactly, but love had to be in there somewhere. She just wasn't sure if everyone had a chance to have it. And she didn't know how any of this would help her decide what to say when she and Tony sat down together in Thailand and had their inevitable discussion. It was looking more and more as though she would have to play it by ear. The good thing about that was that Ziva was good at thinking on her feet. The bad thing was, that usually only applied when things went bad in the field. When it came to making split-second decisions about her relationships, Ziva didn't trust herself to do the right thing.

Could she just leave it all up to Tony, she wondered?

The butterflies that had kept her awake all night did another few laps of her stomach, and Ziva sighed with irritation. Of course she couldn't just leave it up to him. That wasn't fair. Not for either of them. And since he seemed so determined of late to get her to focus on what would make her happy, she doubted he'd take responsibility for it. Unfortunately, where they went from here would have to be a joint decision.

She packed another t-shirt neatly into her bag and then turned to go to the bathroom to grab her small, pre-packed bag of toiletries. She had only taken a step when her cell rang, and she changed route to grab the phone from her dresser. Cassie's name appeared on caller ID, and Ziva was frankly pleased for the diversion from her nerve-wracking thoughts. She sat back on her bed as she answered.

"David."

"Happy Thanksgiving," Cassie greeted her.

Ziva smiled. "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too," she returned.

"I know you're probably about to head out the door, if you haven't already," Cassie said. "But I just wanted to catch you before you got on your flight."

Ziva shook her head and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. "I am still at home. Tony will be here in 20 minutes."

"Okay, then I want to talk before he arrives," Cassie said, and there was something in her voice, something almost excitable, that made the nerves in Ziva's stomach seize sickeningly. She did not want to talk to Cassie about anything to do with Tony right now.

"Cassie," she started warningly, but Cassie was already talking again.

"I have good news," she said. "You know how Tim's been really weird and cagey lately?"

Ziva sighed. "No, Cassie, he has not been weird and cagey," she said firmly.

"He has," Cassie replied just as firmly. "But now I know why. He asked me to move in with him!"

Ziva was surprised McGee had gotten there so quickly (to her knowledge, anyway—Tony had not said how long ago McGee had first mentioned to him that it was on his mind), and it was easy to use that surprise to make it sound like she did not know it was coming. "He did? That is wonderful" she said, and then paused. "I assume you said yes?"

"Yes," Cassie said with a laugh. "I thought, you know, we should give it a shot. I like him and he likes me and we're usually as happy as can be."

Ziva vaguely recognized the rhyme, but shifted focus to what she had said, not how she had said it. "Usually?" she echoed. "I thought it was always."

"No one's happy _always_," Cassie said. "Or if they are, they've got issues they're not facing."

Or focusing too closely on, Ziva thought. "True."

"Do you think it's too early?" Cassie asked her, seemingly genuinely.

"No," Ziva said automatically. "I think it could be for some people, but neither of you are idiots. And you are both very comfortable in the relationship, yes? I know you have not had second-thoughts, and as far as I know, neither has McGee."

"As far as you know?" Cassie sounded somewhat flattened, and Ziva shook her head quickly and tried to explain.

"If McGee is going to discuss it with anyone, it would be with Tony, not me," she said. "But I have also known McGee for a long time. He is a terrible liar and I am an excellent interrogator. If he had doubts, I am confident I would know."

"That is oddly comforting to know," Cassie said.

"So, will you move in with him, or will he move in with you?" Ziva asked. "Or will you find a new place?"

"Not sure yet," Cassie said, as Ziva heard a knock on her door. She checked the clock again—if that was Tony, he was definitely early. She got up and walked to the door as Cassie went on. "I mean, my place is bigger. But I kind of can't imagine having to pack his up. He has so much _stuff_, Ziva."

Ziva thought of Tony's comment from a few nights ago about all of McGee's _nerd crap_. He certainly had a lot of it, and she understood Cassie's worry. "Well, whoever moves does not need to do it right away," she offered.

"Which is probably good, because right after I said yes, he blindsided me with a conversation about finances."

Ziva checked the peephole and saw Tony in profile as he looked back down the corridor. "What does that mean?" she asked Cassie, and opened the door. Tony gave her a smile that made her stomach turn again, but this time it was in a good way.

"Ms David," Tony said in greeting, just as Cassie replied.

"He wants to know what my financial situation is like," she said, as Ziva mouthed 'hello' to Tony and pointed at the phone. "He wants to know if I'm in bad shape financially before we…I don't know. Commit, I guess."

Ziva frowned sharply. "He what?"

Her tone made Tony freeze on his way into her apartment and, with an over-the-top look of fear on his face, he pointed at himself in question. Ziva shook her head and waved him in, then slammed the door after him.

"He didn't really put it as bluntly as that," Cassie said. "And I get why he's asking. You know, if I moved in with him and then found out that he had a hundred grand in credit card debt, I'd be pretty annoyed."

"Of course," Ziva said. "But he asked you that immediately after asking you to move in with him?"

Tony clearly caught on to who she was talking to, and he started waving his hands around clicking his fingers in what appeared to be genuine excitement. Ziva supposed that he had already spoken to McGee that morning. She smiled at his strange routine, but she was still offended on behalf of Cassie.

"It kind of killed the romance of it," Cassie admitted.

"Well, McGee is very practical," Ziva said, trying to find an explanation for him. "It does not surprise me that he thinks of these things."

"I know, I know," Cassie said. "And don't get me wrong. I'm really happy. He was almost unbearably sweet when he asked me."

Ziva smiled, and watched Tony walk over to her couch and take a seat. He settled in comfortably, grabbed a book off the coffee table and flipped it open. "I believe that," Ziva said, and then smiled again as Tony made a confused face, rolled his eyes and tossed the book with Hebrew script back onto the coffee table. "McGee is nothing if not sweet." That drew another eye roll out of Tony.

"I know. I'm lucky I found him."

"I think you were meant to," Ziva told her. "I think you both have it right with each other."

"Yeah," Cassie said with a smile in her voice. "I think so too."

"We will talk more when I get home, yes?" Ziva said. "Tony has arrived and I need to finish packing."

"Sure. I just wanted to tell you."

"I am glad you did. I am very happy for you both, Cassie."

"Thanks. Tell Tony happy Thanksgiving."

Ziva nodded. "I will."

"Travel safe," Cassie added.

"I promise," Ziva said, and then hung up.

"He did it," Tony said as Ziva slid her phone into her pocket. "He asked her."

"I gathered that, yes," she said. "He also followed up asking her to move in with him by asking her about her financial situation."

Tony stared at her for a moment as he processed that, and then scrunched his face up. "Oh, _probie_," he sighed. "Why'd you have to go and do that?"

"Fortunately, she is still keen to pursue a future with him," Ziva said. "I understand that it is an important conversation to have, but his timing could have been better."

"He didn't run that bit past me," Tony told her. "I would've told him to wait at least until after they'd had celebratory sex."

Ziva shook her head and went back to her bedroom. Tony followed her.

"I told him he should wait until we got back to tell Abby," he said.

Ziva turned halfway between the door and the en suite to look at him. "Why?"

"Because she's going to be upset, even if she's happy for him," Tony explained, and then looked her up and down in a way that made her stomach flip again. "She's going to need someone to vent to. And it's better if it's you or me instead of Gibbs, because if she vents to Gibbs it'll just make Gibbs pissed off with McGee." He took two steps towards her. "And as much as I usually enjoy it when Gibbs is pissed off with McGee, he doesn't deserve it over this."

She kept her eyes on him as she realized that he was concerned with making life easier for McGee and maybe, eventually, himself and Ziva. She had to smile at that. Not for whatever impact it would have on her and Tony in the future (although it was nice to know he was thinking about that), but because despite how much he teased McGee and deliberately pushed his buttons, Tony really did take his role of big brother seriously.

"Okay."

Tony nodded, and for a moment they just stood there and looked at each other. Ziva didn't know why. Maybe it was just because they liked looking at each other. Or maybe he was trying to say something with his expression that she just wasn't hearing.

"You didn't sleep," he finally said.

She frowned. "Hmm?"

"You look tired."

Ziva bristled. So much for just enjoying looking at each other. "Thank you," she drawled, and turned away from him to walk into her en suite. It seemed that their roles this week had been reversed.

"I didn't say you look bad."

"I am fine," she insisted.

"Why didn't you sleep?"

She let herself sigh. "No reason," she lied. "It was just one of those nights."

"And you slept in," he guessed.

"You should be an investigator." She turned and walked into her bathroom.

"Why didn't you pack while you couldn't sleep?" he called out.

Ziva opened the bottom drawer in her bathroom vanity and pulled out the small travel bag she was looking for. "I am almost finished," she said defensively. "If you had turned up when you said you were going to, I _would_ have been finished." She opened the bag and filled what little space was left with a few basic cosmetics.

"I like to keep surprising you," Tony replied. "It keeps you on your ninja toes."

Ziva glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she reached for her toothbrush, and found that he had made her smile again.

"What's that saying?" he went on. "Variety is the spice of life?"

"This is you attempting to spice up my life?" she asked. "By arriving 20 minutes early?" She zipped up the bag and returned to the bedroom. Tony shrugged and spread his hands.

"I know it seems like a small thing," he said. "But not everything has to be a grand gesture. Or else grand gestures would get boring. And then how am I supposed to impress you?"

"You are trying to impress me?" Ziva asked, and dropped the little bag into the duffel.

"Ziva," he said, sounding just surprised enough to tell her he was making fun. "I am _always_ trying to impress you."

"Keep trying," she told him lightly. "I am sure you will one day."

He returned her bitchy smile, and then gestured at her bag. "You're bringing a bikini, right?"

"Why would I bring a bikini?"

He grinned lasciviously. "Skinny dipping. Nice."

"We are going for work," she reminded him.

Tony gave her a tired look. "Come on, Ziva. How many trips have we made for work over the years? We always end up with a couple of hours with nothing to do. We're going to get there and find some time to twiddle our thumbs, and you're going to want to dive into that big blue ocean to cool off."

Ziva opened her mouth to suggest that she thought they would engage in a completely different activity to fill their free time, but her heart filled her throat and she lost her nerve. She shut her mouth, went to her dresser and dug around until she found a favorite two-piece, then put it in her duffel bag.

"Perfect," Tony said. "We've got to get moving. Traffic's already bad, and I reckon I've only got about half an hour of a good mood left."

Ziva checked her bag to make sure she had everything, then zipped it closed and slung it over her shoulder. "Thank you for the warning."

…

Thanksgiving traffic on the way to the airport was heavy already, but it was made even worse by the slippery roads and rain pouring from the low, grey sky. As they crawled along the highway, Ziva wondered if Tony's prediction for at least 30 more minutes of a good mood was optimistic. And she probably wasn't helping. Almost as soon as they had made it to the end of her street, Ziva's sleepless nights had caught up with her and she had let her head drop to rest against the window. She could hear the _splat splat splat_ of heavy raindrops falling against the windscreen and tires on asphalt. That Combined with the toasty warmth coming from the heater, she found herself on the verge of dozing off. By the time they hit the highway she was fighting to stay awake.

Although perhaps not fighting very hard.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Tony's raised voice, tinged with irritation, woke her right before she fell asleep. Ziva searched her memory in case anything that he had just said had gotten through to her, but she came up blank. She took a shot in the dark. "In-flight movie," she murmured, not bothering to open her eyes.

There was a pause. "Lucky guess."

A smile ghosted across her face, and she tried to make herself promise that she wouldn't fall asleep until they boarded the plane. Tony didn't try to fill the silence, so she let her mind drift until it landed on Cassie and McGee.

She was happy for the two of them. Particularly McGee, whom she adored and whom she firmly believed deserved wonderful things in his life. But she still felt that nagging sense of jealousy that had hit her so unexpectedly when Tony first told her that McGee was going to take a giant relationship step.

McGee's roots were firmly planted in DC, and in his job, and now he was putting down stronger family roots. It struck her that perhaps this was where her jealousy stemmed. Ziva had decided years ago that she wanted to plant herself in one place and embark on some kind of traditional life. Or at least as traditional as someone with her background and issues could manage. Yes, she had lived in DC for the better part of eight years. And yes, she had more or less held the same job for that time, and had the same friends. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something temporary to her current place in life. That she was one bad case or unexpected visit from her old Mossad associates away from it all being pulled out from under her. If she had to leave at a moment's notice, she could. There would be nothing stopping her. Nothing to untangle herself from. Not really. Her heart would ache and be scarred for her lifetime, but _officially_ she had no one to answer to and no one whose opinion she would have to seek before acting. Once upon a time, that was just how she had wanted things to be. But not anymore.

She didn't know if McGee had felt the same way before Cassie had some along. But she was willing to bet that he didn't feel that way now. Now, he had something to anchor him

"You're lucky I like you."

She dropped the thought and turned her attention back to Tony. "Hmm?"

"I said, you're lucky I like you," he repeated.

She didn't move her head or open her eyes, but managed to (barely) encourage the conversation further along. "Why?"

"Because I'll forgive you for falling asleep on me."

"I am not asleep."

"You were mumbling," he told her.

That got her attention. What the hell had she said? Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head sharply to look at him. "What?"

He glanced at her before returning his eyes to the road. "You were mumbling something."

She shook her head. "I did not say anything."

"In your sleep," he insisted.

"I was not asleep," she argued stubbornly.

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, you were definitely asleep," he said. "Don't worry. I'm only slightly offended."

Ziva rubbed her face, trying to wake herself up. "Sorry."

"You said something about _happy assie_," he told her, and then glanced at her again. "I assume you meant _McAssie_, and can I just say how gratifying it is to know that you've stooped to my level and are using their correct nickname?"

"I have not," she said, and shifted in her seat. She looked out the window to get her bearings, and decided they were probably 45 minutes from the airport. Perhaps she had accidentally slept for longer than she thought she had.

"What's on your mind, Ziva?" Tony asked after a moment.

Ziva frowned. Tony never asked her that, unless he thought a piece of a case was on her mind. But he seemed genuinely curious. That didn't mean Ziva was ready to be upfront about it.

"In-flight movie," she replied.

He paused. "Are you hoping for Skyfall?" he asked, playing along.

"Actually, I would like to see that," Ziva told him.

"No, not on a tiny screen," he said dismissively. "We're going to a proper cinema for that."

Ziva grunted.

"I'm going out on a limb," he said after a few more moments of silence. "Something's bugging you about McGee and Cassie moving in together."

"Of course not!" she argued automatically.

Tony turned the fan on the dash down a notch. "Okay. Your official response has been noted for the record," he said. "Now tell me what you think _off_ the record."

"I am still happy for them," she insisted.

"I'm not arguing that," he said. "But you got all thoughtful the other day after I told you what was happening. And you're doing the same thing today. So what gives? Spill it."

Ziva hesitated. The truth was, she wanted to talk it over with someone. But someone _safe_. The problem was that no such person existed for this particular conversation. So she would have to use safe words.

"I was just thinking that McGee has an anchor of sorts now."

Tony snorted. "The ball and chain."

"That what?"

Tony's grin disappeared when he glanced at her and found her frowning. "It's an expression," he said, as if trying to jog her memory. "You know, your partner is the ball and chain you drag around with you? Like torture…" He trailed off.

Ziva's mouth fell open. "That is despicable, DiNozzo!"

Tony took his hand of the steering wheel to hold it up defensively. "I didn't make it up!" he protested. "I'm just making a joke! I don't believe it. Of _course_ I don't believe it. Why would I believe it?"

She truly wanted to believe _him_, so she didn't press it further. "I meant now he has someone to ground him, yes? When he feels lost or when he feels he could just…float away. Or run away. He now has someone to keep him here. A reason." She paused as the thought settled with her. "Cassie is his reason."

They drove in silence for a few seconds, and she wondered if Tony wasn't saying anything because he didn't see it the same way. Or perhaps she had been too transparent, and he didn't know how to tell her to back off until they were all the way over the other side of the world. But when he finally did speak, his voice soft and thick with feeling, she knew she was wrong.

"Yeah. She is. There's no way in hell he's going anywhere else when she's here."

Ziva nodded and stared out the side window as she wrestled with how far to push this. "Tony, I do not know if you remember this. But when we returned from…Somalia," she almost choked on the word, "I told you that I wanted to put down my roots."

"I remember."

She paused again. She realized that she had set the scene, but now she was at a loss where to take it. Should she tell him she was still trying to settle down? Tell him there were days when she felt her last chance at it all slipping away? That unless they made a real commitment to each other, she was sure that she'd be weighed down with dread and regret for the rest of her life?

"You think McGee got there before you?" Tony asked.

"I am not surprised," she replied honestly, and then turned her head to throw him a rueful smile. But Tony's eyes were glued to the road ahead.

"Who cares, Ziva?" he said, surprising her with his bluntness. "I mean, really. Who cares? McGee worked it out first. You're right, that's not surprising. He's easily the most normal and well adjusted of all of us. But who cares? He's not going to be the only one to get there. And 20 years from now, it won't matter that he got there first."

Ziva's throat got suddenly tight—he truly surprised her with his wisdom at times—but she swallowed it down. "This is coming from the side of you that has been encouraging me to focus on finding my happiness?"

The corner of his mouth pulled back in a brief smile. "Are you admitting that you've actually been listening to me?"

She shrugged, and said what was expected of her. "Sometimes you sound as though you know what you are talking about."

Tony smirked again. "Sometimes." He paused as he checked his blind spot before switching lanes. "I know where you're coming from, Ziva. I've lived all over the place, and I don't know why I've stayed in DC for so long. I guess it was Gibbs for a while. In a completely professional way," he hastened to add.

"Of course."

He heaved a heavy sigh. "But I'm 42. And a professional anchor isn't cutting it anymore."

Ziva's throat tightened again at the implication that he, too, could float away at any moment. She had to take a few slow and steady breaths before she trusted her voice enough to reply. "So, you will join me in a quest for happiness, yes?"

Perhaps she should have, but Ziva didn't realize what her casual joke could really mean to him until he looked at her with an expression so raw that her chest immediately started to ache.

"Yeah, Ziva," he told her as if it was obvious. "That's the plan."


End file.
